Anselm Revisited: A Study on the role of the Ontological Argument in the Writings of Karl Barth and Charles Hartshorne 9004039988

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ANSELM REVISITED A STUDY OF THE ROLE OF THE ONTOLOGICAL ARGUMENT IN THE WRITINGS OF KARL BARTH AND CHARLES HARTSHORNE

BY

ROBERT D. SHOFNER

LEIDEN

E. J. BRILL 1974

ISBN 90 04 03998 8

Copyright 1974 by E. J. Brill, Leiden, Netherlands All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or translated in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, microfiche or any other means without written permission from the publisher PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS

Cathy, Bobby and Suzie

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface.............................................................................................

I.

II.

III.

A "Copernican Revolution" in Theological Method A. Introduction........................................................................ B. Theological Cartesianism and the Stance of its Nine­ teenth-Century Exponents .................................... 3 i. Barth and "The Cartesian‘Faux-Pas’’’ .... 2. Kant and the Cartesianism of the Neo-Protes­ tants .......................................................................... 10 C. A Developing Theological Positivism........................... 1. First-phase Barthianism............................................ 2. Second-phase Barthianism........................................ 3. Third-phase Barthianism........................................ D. Conclusion............................................................................ Anselm and the Nature and Method of Theology A. Introduction........................................................................ B. From Die Christliche Dogmatik to Die Kirchliche Dogmatik........................................................................ 40 C. The Nature and Method of Theology in Barth’s Study of Anselm...................................................... 44 1. Why is theology necessary ?................................... 2. How is theology possible ?........................................ 3. What are the conditions of theology ?................. 4. In what manner does theology proceed ? .... 5. What is the aim of theology ?................................... D. Conclusion............................................................................

ix i

I

4

27 28 30 33 36

37 37

45 49 52 58 74 83

A Theological Interpretation of Proslogion 2-4 . . 87 A. Introduction....................................................................... 87 B. The Barthian Approach to Proslogion 2-4.................. 88 1. A revelational starting point................................... 91 2. Structural considerations........................................ 98 3. Concerning God’s general and special existence 104 C. Conclusion....................................................................... 118

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VIII

IV.

A. B.

C. D.

V.

Implications and a Critical Evaluation.................................................122 Introduction............................................................................. 122 The Question of Natural Theology............................... 123 1. On the possibility and vitality of natural theology....................................................................... 126 2. Natural theology and the Barthian opposition to theological Cartesianism...................................... 147 The Problem of the Relationship Between Philosophy and Theology........................................................................ 159 A Critical Evaluation........................................................... 165 1. Natural theology and Barth’s monistic interpre­ tation of the Bible............................................... 166 2. The problem of the relationship between phi­ losophy and theology and Barth’s metaphysical monism........................................................................... 170 3. Conclusion.........................................................................178

Two

Systemic

Charles Hartshorne’s Philosophical Theology as Basis for an Alternative to the Barthian Dogmatic Program.................................................................. 180 A. Introduction............................................................................. 180 B. Neoclassical Metaphysics and theMeaning of God 183 C. The Ontological Argument Revisited................................ 208 D. A Natural Theology for Our Time..................................... 223 E. Conclusion................................................................................. 226 the

Bibliography........................................................................................... 231

Index

........................................................................................................ 241

PREFACE

This work traces the dimensions of two independent attempts— those of Karl Barth and Charles Hartshorne—to set aside the burden of the Kantian heritage in so far as it has influenced the development of contemporary philosophical-theological thinking. The focal issue throughout is the role that the Anselmian formula­ tion of the ontological argument plays in these respective attempts. Such an issue is raised not out of an historical-critical interest in the writings of the eleventh-century saint, but because both Barth and Hartshorne have found the Proslogion proof for God to be a partic­ ularly propitious vantage point from which to gain a fresh per­ spective on their own professional preoccuptions. It is interesting to note, however, that while Barth turns to a discussion of the onto­ logical argument as a phase in the development of a methodological program which entails the rejection of natural theology, Hartshorne undertakes a defense of the same argument in an effort to establish an appropriate basis for the acceptance of natural theology. The scope of the chapters to follow has been shaped by the conviction that there is a pressing need to account for this rather disconcerting difference. In our predominantly secular society the revelatory claims of a supernaturalistic religious mentality are no longer being given sustained and serious consideration by those who are intellectually alert. Thus, if the systematic theologian wishes to defend the potential meaningfulness and relevance of the Christian faith with­ in such a context, it is incumbent upon him to engage in the apolo­ getic task with acumen and adeptness. But in order to do so he will find it necessary to step beyond the confines of Barthianism. This study has been designed to help him take that step. Going beyond Barthianism implies a striding through rather than a slipping around. Thus, the analysis and criticism set forth in the subsequent pages are scrupulous in their attention to the subtleties of the Swiss Professor’s thought. Nevertheless, they aim to establish a rationale for suggesting that Hartshorne’s natural or philosoph­ ical theology is worthy of serving as a prolegomenon to the enter­ prise of systematic reflection on the Church’s doctrinal tradition in our modern secular age. Is this not a sufficient justification for

X

PREFACE

exploring the dynamics of that disconcerting difference mentioned above ? In Chapter I, which deals with the Barthian “Copernican Revo­ lution” in theological method, the anthropocentric proclivities of the Cartesian-Kantian tradition are sketched and the three phases of Barth’s own dogmatic development receive a brief characteri­ zation from the perspective of his reaction to these proclivities. Chapters II and III are devoted to a detailed treatment of the Swiss Professor’s study of Anselm, which appeared in 1931. The one is concerned with the Anselmian contribution to Barth’s under­ standing of the nature and method of theology, while the other examines his innovative interpretation of Proslogion 2-4. It is in Chapter IV that the question of natural theology and the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology are analyzed and critically evaluated. The criticism that emerges highlights the need to consider an alternative to the Barthian dogmatic program. Since the alternative suggested is the one provided by Charles Hartshorne’s philosophical theology, this defines the topic of the fifth and concluding chapter. I wish to thank Professors Egil Grislis, George A. Riggan and Richard A. Underwood of the Hartford Seminary Foundation for sharing with me their scholarly competence and friendly concern both before and while the pages of this study were being conceived and drafted. To Professor Crerar Douglas, my colleague in the Department of Religious Studies at California State University, Northridge, I also owe a debt of gratitude. His learned and critical counsel has contributed substantially to whatever quality this work might be found to possess. Nor should the invaluable assistance of my gifted secretary, Miss Pam Woodard, go unmentioned. In so many ways she consistently manages to ease the pressures of the administrative routine enough to allow time for some research and writing. Finally, a word of appreciation expressed to my wife and son is very much in order here. They have continually provided in­ spiration and encouragement; they have displayed understanding when it was difficult to do so; they have endured a great deal without complaint. And because the manuscript was painstakingly typed by my wife, Cathy, she must be accorded not only thanks but praise. It is no mean task she has performed. Northridge, California

R.D.S.

CHAPTER ONE

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

A. Introduction The subject of theology is the history of the communion of God with man and of man with God. This history is proclaimed, in ancient times and today, in the Old and New Testaments. The message of the Christian Church has its origin and its contents in this history. The subject of theology, is, in this sense, the ‘Word of God.’ Theology is a science and a teaching which feels itself responsible to the living command of this specific subject and to nothing else in heaven or on earth, in the choice of its methods, its questions and answers, its concepts and language, its goals and limitations. Theology is a free science because it is based on and determined by the kingly freedom of the word of God ...1

These words from the pen of Karl Barth express his mature insight into the distinctive nature of the theological enterprise. They manifest a concern to emphasize the need for theology to develop internally in accord with its own proper source and method. Such a concern is reflective of an uncompromising theocentrism informed by a single-minded desire to exalt the sovereignty, majesty and free­ dom of Yahweh-Kyrios, the God of the Bible. Barth claims that when theology is approached theocentrically one is operating within the perspective of the New Testament writers and the rediscovery of that point of view by the Reformers of the sixteenth century.2 And theology so conceived is most properly designated “evangelical.” 3 Evangelical theology is not to be thought of as the exclusive prerogative of any particular segment of Christendom. Indeed, as Barth writes: 1 Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1959), p. 5. The quotation is from the “Foreword to the Torchbook Edition,” dated March, 1959. 2 Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction (New York, Chicago, and San Francisco: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1963), p. 5. 3 Ibid.

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A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

Not all so-called “protestant” theology is evangelical theology; moreover, there is also evangelical theology in the Roman Catholic and Eastern orthodox worlds, as well as in the many later variations, including deteriorations, of the Reformation departure.4 Because this is so, it must be said that wherever and whenever “the God who reveals himself in the Gospel” is viewed as the source and norm of that human effort known as theological science “there is evangelical theology.”5 It will be our task in this chapter to demonstrate that Barth’s programmatic endeavor to recover the “evangelical” perspective in theology assumes its clearest dimensions when examined in the context of his revolt against the religious anthropocentrism of several of the leading nineteenth-century German thinkers, and that this religious anthropocentrism is but a refined expression of that phenomenon which might be designated “theological Carte­ sianism.” 6 In the course of our discussion we shall strive to indicate that it is precisely the reversal of this pervasive tendency in post­ Reformation thought that defines the nature of Barth’s “Coper­ nican Revolution” in theological method.7 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid., p. 6. 6 Throughout his Church Dogmatics Barth is consistently critical of “Cartesianism” in theology. For an example of his attitude concerning this issue see Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of the Word of God, Prolegomena to Church Dogmatics, trans, by G. T. Thompson (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1936), I/i, 222-226 and 241-244. Hereafter citation of the authorized English translation of Die Kirchliche Dogmatik will be symbolized by the letters C. D. followed by the appropriate volume and part numbers. 7 In the present chapter we must limit our analysis to Barth’s critique of the anthropological starting point in Protestant theology. This is not to suggest, however, that his critical powers were never focused on a similar phenomenon within Roman Catholicism. Again and again throughout the Barthian corpus one is made aware of an intense and vigorous opposition that is raised against the analogia entis doctrine, the most consistent Catholic expression of the anthropological approach to the theological enterprise. On one occasion we even find this doctrine being spoken of as “the invention of the Antichrist” and as the only possible reason “for not becoming Catho­ lic.” (C.D., I/i, x.) But since Barth sees the analogia entis doctrine as support­ ive of Catholicism’s contribution to “natural theology” we have found it expedient to postpone our discussion of it until chapter 4. (Cf., C. D., II/i, 8iff.) At this juncture it seems appropriate for this writer to acknowledge his debt to David L. Mueller’s highly informative doctoral dissertation Karl Barth’s Critique of the Anthropological Starting Point in Theology, (Duke University, 1958). While learning from this work, we have attempted to go beyond it so as to gain a critical perspective on the nature of the Barthian dogmatic program.

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

3

B. Theological Cartesianism and the Stance of its Nineteenth-Century Exponents By “theological Cartesianism” Barth means that methodological approach, shared by all but a few theologians writing in the period following Descartes, which attempts to derive knowledge of God from man’s previously established knowledge or understanding of himself. God-certainty, from this point of view, is necessarily based upon self-certainty.8 Descartes’ famous “proof of God from man’s certainty of himself” 9 is the paradigmatic instance of such a methodological conviction. But this is to enter into the theological enterprise from an anthropological starting point. The tendency here is to make man the “centre and measure and goal of all things.” 10 Barth observes that the man-centered approach to theology just described is grounded, historically speaking, in the humanistic concerns of the Renaissance.11 However, since it was Descartes who brought these particular concerns to definitive philosophic expres­ sion, and because it was his thought that so decisively influenced the intellectual milieu within which post-Reformation theology developed, the rubric “theological Cartesianism” is both fitting and proper. Although Barth does not refrain from criticizing in a most vigor­ ous way those elements of Cartesian subjectivism to be found in Protestant orthodoxy, Pietism and Enlightenment theology,12 he is most frequently concerned to attack the “religionistic, anthropo­ centric, and in this sense humanistic” 13 tendencies of Neo-Protestantism. And, of course, by “Neo-Protestantism” he means “... the liberal theology of religious individualism formulated under the impact of the Romantic Idealist philosophy of the nineteenth century and coordinated with the brilliant culture which it built 8 C. D., I/x, 222-223. 9 Ibid., p. 222. 10 C. D., I/2, 293. 11 Karl Barth, The Humanity of God (Richmond: John Knox Press, i960), p. 26. Cf., Karl Barth, Theology and Church: Shorter Writings 1920-1928 (New York and Evanston: Harper & Row, 1962), p. 313. 12 See, for example, Barth’s “Foreword” to Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1950), pp. v-vii. Also C. D., I/2, 285 ff. Cf., Karl Barth, Die Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf: I. Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes. Prole­ gomena zur christlichen Dogmatik (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1927), pp. 302ft. Hereafter this work will be cited as Die Christliche Dogmatik. 13 Barth, The Humanity of God, p. 39.

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A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

up.” 14 The theologian who stands at the very head of this tradition is the incomparable Schleiermacher. Proceeding under his influence, this illustrious movement arrived at its fateful climax in the achieve­ ments of Harnack and Troeltsch. The man who heralded this outcome, however, was the provocative Feuerbach.15 No discussion of Barth’s critique of Cartesianism should ignore his rather lengthy and careful treatment of the seventeenth-century philosopher’s famous treatise Meditations on First Philosophy (1641).16 Therefore, prior to any further examination of the Barthian position concerning the stance of the Neo-Protestants we must pause to review the Basel Professor’s unquestionably insightful comments on Descartes. 1.

Barth and “TheCartesian ‘Faux-Pas’ ” 17

The central thesis argued by Barth in his impressive excursus on Descartes’ Meditationes de prima philosophia is that while the author “spoke of it as though its theme were De Deo et anima and 14 Thomas F. Torrance, Karl Barth: An Introduction to his Early Theology, 1910-1931 (London: SCM Press Ltd., 1962), p. 33. 15 Barth, The Humanity of God, pp. 12-14. On p. 14 Barth offers an illumi­ nating comment regarding his own relationship to the Neo-Protestant tradition: The actual end of the 19th century as the “good old days” came for theology as for everything else with the fateful year of 1914. Accidentally or not, a significant event took place during that very year. Ernst Troeltsch, the well-known professor of systematic theology and the leader of the then most modern school, gave up his chair in theology for one in philosophy. One day in early August 1914 stands out in my personal memory as a black day. Ninety-three German intellectuals impressed public opinion by their proclamation in support of the war policy of Wilhelm II and his counselors. Among those intellectuals I discovered to my horror almost all of my theological teachers whom I had greatly venerated. In despair over what this indicated about the signs of the time I suddenly realized that I could not any longer follow either their ethics and dogmatics or their understanding of the Bible and of history. For me at least, 19th-century theology no longer held any future. 16 C. D., III/i, 350-363. 17 This designation is, of course, taken from the title of the third chapter of William Temple’s impressive book Nature, Man and God (London: Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1934). Its usage in this context was suggested by Robert E. Cushman’s article “Barth’s Attack Upon Cartesianism and the Future in Theology,” Journal of Religion, XXXVI, No. 4 (October, 1956), 215. It is Cushman’s judgement that Barth’s “. . . long excursus on Des­ cartes ... is in many respects directed to ends similar to those of Temple ...” (p. 215) While it is not our aim to pursue this issue, Cushman does so in such a way as to justify his statement.

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

5

its essential content consisted in a proof of the existence of God and the immortality of the soul which would be irrefutable even for unbelievers,” 18 in point of fact the case is demonstrably otherwise. Actually, the primary consideration seems to be the question of the certainty of the reality of man as a thinking being. Methodologi­ cally, then, the efforts to prove God’s existence and the immortality of the soul merely function to support a more fundamental concern for establishing the indubitableness of the thinking subject.19 Assuming a basic familiarity with the seventeenth-century philo­ sopher’s famous treatise of 1641, let us focus our attention on the dynamics of the Barthian critique of that document. After discussing the first and second Meditations in which Descartes articulates the theme of radical doubt and advances the Cogito, ergo sum declaration, Barth turns to the third Meditation where the existence of 'God is treated for the first time. In this context he writes:

Naturally it does not escape the notice of Descartes that in the second Meditation he had not so much proved the conclusiveness of his self-demonstration of the thinking subject as assumed it. He now proposes to prove it. And the idea of God serves his purpose at this point.20

In other words, the proof of the divine existence set forth at this particular juncture must be viewed as a buttress for the previous claim regarding the existence of the subject who thinks. This charge is given credence by the interesting scheme of argumentation now to be considered. Barth reminds us that it is Descartes’ intention to move from the idea of a supreme being to the remarkable conclusion that such a being necessarily exists. This move is facilitated when the seven­ teenth-century philosopher proffers a definition of the crucial idea in question. “By the name God,” he writes, “I mean a substance that is infinite, immutable, independent, all-knowing, all-powerful, 18 C. D., III/i, 350. 19 Ibid., p. 351. Because it is not of central importance to the development of our argument in this chapter we will not attempt to deal with the problem of Descartes’ “proof” of the immortality of the soul. Rather, we will allow the following judgement from the pen of Karl Barth to stand in lieu of an extended discussion of this matter: "... we can hardly see a proof of the immortality of the soul in the casual remarks of the sixth Meditation con­ cerning the indivisibility of the mind as opposed to the divisibility of the body.” Ibid. 20 Ibid.

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A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

and by which I myself and everything else, if any such other things there be, have been created.” 21 Is it conceivable that an idea of this sort could have proceeded from the thinking subject alone ? Des­ cartes argues that it is not. The idea of an infinite substance could have proceeded only “from some substance which is in itself infi­ nite.” 22 But the thinking subject is merely a finite substance. There­ fore, such a one’s idea of “a supreme God, eternal, infinite, immu­ table, omniscient, omnipotent, and the creator of all things which are in addition to Himself. .23 cannot be accounted for unless there is an objectively existing divine being to whom it corresponds and from whom it derives. Indeed, how can it be otherwise when we consider the rule that “there must be at least as much reality in the efficient and total cause as in its effect” ? 24 The next step taken by Descartes in his third Meditation lends strong support to Barth’s central thesis. The seventeenth-century philosopher now asserts that his awareness of God is somehow prior to his awareness of himself. “For how could I know,” he queries, “that I doubt and desire, i.e., know that something is lacking to me and that I am not wholly perfect, save by having in me the idea of a being more perfect than myself, by comparison with which I may recognize my deficiencies?”25 This rhetorical question leads Descartes to suspect that the thinking subject who entertains the idea of God could not exist at all unless such a supreme being also existed.26 The reasoning that underlies this suspicion is straight­ forward. The thinking subject, with his doubts and desires, is a being who exists in every moment in imperfection. His very exist­ ence, therefore, requires a perfect being as its creator and sustainer. It is precisely this being who is the object of the thinking subject’s idea. And such an idea is innate in the subject who thinks, even as is the idea of his own existence.27 With these considerations in view, Descartes concludes that ... when my mind is attentively directed upon myself, not only do I know that I am a thing imperfect, incomplete and dependent on what is other than myself, ever aspiring after something better and 21 Descartes: Philosophical Writings, trans, and ed. by Norman Kemp Smith (New York: Modern Library, 1958), p. 204. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid., p. 199. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., p. 205. 26 Ibid., p. 207. 27 Ibid., p. 210.

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

7

greater than myself, but I also know that He on whom I depend possesses in Himself all the great things to which I aspire, and this not indefinitely or potentially only, but really, i.e., actually and in­ finitely, and that He is thus God. The whole force of this argument, as thus used to prove the existence of God, consists in this, that I recognize that it is not possible that my nature should be what it is, viz., that I should have in me the idea of God, if God did not veri­ tably exist ...28

It is Barth’s contention that in his third Meditation the seven­ teenth-century philosopher attempts to ground certainty of self in certainty of God. This attempt is, of course, to be applauded. However, it fails completely. Having begun with the thinking subject Descartes is not able to establish the real priority or antece­ dence of God. Indeed, he cannot do so because he actually deduces the idea of God from the deficiency of the human mind. Thus, the asserted real existence of the content of his idea logically stands or falls with the asserted existence of himself as the subject who thinks.29 The situation is not even slightly improved by the somewhat different argument advanced in the fifth Meditation. Here Descartes produces the idea of God out of “the treasury of the human mind.”30 But this means that the proof of God’s existence proffered in this context is actually based upon an inference made by the thinking subject from its own conceptual sufficiency.31 Let us explore, very briefly, the nature of this inference. The seventeenth-century philosopher takes up his task in the fifth Meditation armed with a fundamental axiom. He argues that what is clearly and distinctly seen to be intrinsic to the nature of a thing (as happens, for example, in mathematical apprehension) does in fact belong to that thing.32 Applying this axiom, Descartes writes: Now if, directly on my being able to find an idea of something in my thought, it at once follows that whatever I clearly and distinctly apprehend as pertaining to the thing does in truth belong to it, may I not derive from this an argument for the existence of God ? 33 28 Ibid., pp. 210-211. 29 C. D., III/i, 358. 30 Ibid. This approach is opposite to the one characterizing the third Meditation. There, as we previously observed, the idea of God is deduced from the human mind’s deficiency. 31 Ibid., p. 351. 32 Ibid., p. 354. 33 Descartes: Philosophical Writings, p. 224.

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION’’ IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

8

Proceeding on the assumption that this question can be answered only in the affirmative, the seventeenth-century philosopher once again seeks to move from the idea of a supreme being to the con­ clusion that such a being necessarily exists. Descartes points out that even as it is of the essence of a triangle to have the sum of its three angles equal to two right angles, or of the essence of a mountain to have a valley in close proximity, so it is of the essence of God to exist in pure actuality.34 He goes on to claim that he does have an idea of God present to his consciousness. Therefore, he can be certain that such a being must in fact exist. Indeed, to think of God at all is to think of him as necessarily existing. However, the seventeenth-century philosopher is quick to assure us that It is not that this necessity is brought about by my thought, or that my thought is imposing any necessity on things; on the con­ trary, the necessity which lies in the thing itself, that is the necessity of God’s existence, determines me to think in this way. It is not in my power to think God as lacking existence (i.e., to think of this sovereignly perfect being as devoid of complete perfection) ...35

Once this most secure of all truths has been grasped, one comes “to recognize that so absolutely dependent on it are all those other certainties [i.e., everything concerning which we have a clear and distinct idea] that save through knowledge of it nothing whatsoever can be prefectly known.” 36 Thus, Descartes triumphantly concludes I see that the certainty and truth of all knowledge depends on knowledge of the true God, and that before I knew Him I could have no perfect knowledge of any other thing. And now that I know Him, I have the means of acquiring a perfect knowledge of innumer­ able things, not only in respect of God Himself and other intelligible things, but also in respect of that corporeal nature which is the object of pure mathematics.37

It is evident from the argument summarized above that in his fifth Meditation Descartes is seeking to achieve indubitable know­ ledge of the world through a prior indubitable knowledge of God. However, even as he failed to attain a similar goal in the third Meditation, so he also fails here. The reason for this failure is parallel 34 35 36 37

Ibid., p. 224. Ibid., p. 225. Ibid., p. 227. Ibid., p. 229.

A "COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

9

to the reason underlying the previous one. In so far as he has begun with only his own idea of the divine being the seventeenth-century philosopher remains imprisoned within the circle of his own subjec­ tivity. Passing judgement on both of these ill-fated attempts at "proof”, Barth writes:

The circle of the cogitare is never broken through. He never pene­ trates to the region of the esse. Even the self-demonstration of the thinking subject, and the proof of mathematical truths, and su­ premely and finally the proof of God’s existence, takes place within this circle. 11 is not demonstrated that God exists quite independently of my idea of Him, and hence it is not proved that I myself exist quite otherwise than in my own thinking, nor that the external world exists beyond my own conception of it.38

It would be a serious mistake to suppose that Barth is critical of Descartes because the two forms of his proof of God’s existence move in a circular fashion. Indeed, "man would have to be God Himself if he were to speak of God otherwise than in the form of circular arguments.” 39 Nor would it be correct to assume that Barth is castigating Descartes for citing as his initial datum the idea of God, "the human thought picture of a supremely perfect being.”40 In point of fact, “for beings who are not themselves God there is in practice no other possible approach.” 41 What, then, is the seven­ teenth-century philosopher’s basic error? The Basel Professor has an answer ready at hand: . .. the circular argument and the human conception without which even Christian faith cannot prove God’s existence are not to be regarded as powerful instruments in the hands of men. Descartes uses them as such.42

The implications of this answer are methodologically significant. Descartes’ fundamental shortcoming, according to Barth, is that he aspires to demonstrate God’s existence by producing an idea of the divine being from the deficiency or treasury of his own mind. Unlike Anselm of Canterbury, he fails to realize that a valid proof of God’s existence must be grounded "in the power of God’s self­ 38 39 40 41 42

C. D., III/i, 359. Ibid., p. 359. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

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A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION” IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

demonstration. . . . ”43 As a consequence of this momentous failure Descartes’ conception of God does not bear the mark of an idea which has been impressed upon his consciousness from outside of himself. He has no assurance, therefore, that his notion of the divine being is anything more than a figment of an autonomous and arbitrary act of the imagination. But this means that the “proofs” based on such a notion break down at the decisive point. As long as they are tied to the mind of man rather than to the self-attestation of God in his revelation there is no possibility for them to succeed. Because the seventeenth-century philosopher did not realize this, it seems quite evident that he never understood the fundamental truth that “there is no way from man to God but only from God to man—a way he himself provides, which is altogether suitable to his sovereign lordship and ontological priority.” 44 Having missed this crucial insight Descartes has no alternative but to approach his task from an anthropological starting point. This is his bequest to post-Reformation theology. The degree to which this comes to affect the manner of theologizing in the nineteenth century is what we must now consider. In order to gain the proper perspective on this matter, however, it will be necessary for us to take account of the fact that the great philosopher of the Enlightenment, Immanuel Kant, stands between Descartes and the Neo-Protestant thinkers, and that he does so in a way that is of fundamental importance.

2.

Kant and the Cartesianism of the Neo-Protestants

Descartes’ momentous assumption that the clear and distinct ideas of a thinking subject yield indubitable knowledge of reality provided support for the development of rationalistic metaphysical systems on the Continent during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The most noteworthy contributors to this phenomenon were Benedict Spinoza (1632-1677), Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716), and Christian Wolff (1679-1754). However, at the same time another point of view was coming to mature expression in the British Isles. Here the attention of such figures as John Locke (1632-1704), Bishop Berkeley (1685-1753), and David Hume (17111776) was being concentrated on the empirical approach to matters of philosophic interest. At the hands of these men Continental rationalism suffered a critical assault. But this assault was made, it 43 Ibid., p. 360. 44 Cushman, “Attack Upon Cartesianism”, p, 215.

A “COPERNICAN REVOLUTION’’ IN THEOLOGICAL METHOD

II

seems, with a sword that cut both ways. Having denied the objec­ tive reality of secondary qualities, primary qualities and even the mind itself, empiricism was left with only ideas or impressions “caused by nothing and held by nothing, but just happening.’’ 45 In the end this led to a skepticism that was fatal not merely to speculative metaphysics, but to the sciences as well. It was at this particular juncture in history that Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) intervened in a decisive manner. The early philosophical views of Kant had been formulated in the context of a Wolffian-Leibnitzian sphere of influence. However, these views were subsequently challenged in a thoroughgoing fashion through a confrontation with the writings of Hume.4647 This disruptive experience prompted Kant to search for a means whereby he might effect a creative synthesis of the opposing lines of thought pursued by Continental rationalism and British empiricism. His effort in this regard received definitive embodiment in the monumental Kritik der reinen Vernunft.^ With this imposing treatise Kant’s famous “critical philosophy” was born. 45 Temple, Nature, Man and God, p. 70. Regarding the development we have just sketched, Temple writes as follows: He [Locke] perceived that the mind gets all its material from sensations ... So what we now tend to call objective reality was reduced to the “Primary Qualities”—that is to the measureable. These are the same for all; but the “Secondary Qualities” vary according to the receptivity of the percipient and are both vague and confused. These Locke held to be subjective only. Berkeley followed and showed that there was no more reason to predicate independent existence of the “Primary” than of the “Secondary Qualities” which Locke had regarded as effects produced on the mind by the “Primary Qualities.” Thus Berkeley abolished independent objective existence altogether apart from spirit­ ual entities and left only God and the mind with its ideas. Hume follow­ ed, and showed that on the now accepted basis of philosophic enquiry there was no ground for believing in the mind itself, so that nothing at all was left except a flux of ideas—caused by nothing and held by nothing but just happening. 46 Writing in 1783 Kant offers the following report: “I openly confess my recollection of David Hume was the very thing which many years ago first interrupted my dogmatic slumber and gave my investigations in the field of speculative philosophy a quite new direction.” Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, trans, by Lewis W. Beck (New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1951), p. 8. 47 The first edition of this epoch making work appeared in 1781 and was followed by a second edition in 1787. The position set forth therein seems to have been at least partially worked out by 1770, however, when Kant published a dissertation entitled On the Form and Principles of the Sensible and Intelligible World (De mundi sensibilis atque intelligibilis forma et prin-

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Humean skepticism had effectively called into question those universal and necessary truths which the sciences presuppose and which metaphysics also claims to be central to its endeavors. Faced with this state of affairs the Königsberg Philosopher initiated an inquiry into the noetic capacities and limitations of man’s reason. But he realized that such an inquiry must proceed on the basis of a scrupulously thorough critical examination of the capabilities of reason to achieve theoretical or cognitive certainty. Commenting on precisely this realization, Barth writes: The critique of reason is reason arriving at an understanding of itself .. . Kant both has and demands an almost unconditional faith in reason. But the only kind of reason he considers worthy of his trust is the reason which has first of all come to be reasonable as regards itself. The meaning of his critique of reason consists in the attempt to bring this kind of reason into prominence.48

It is with the Kantian attempt to clarify the reasonableness of reason that we must now concern ourselves. The first step taken by the Königsberg Philosopher moves him in the direction of establishing a rational basis for that universal and necessary knowledge ruled out by the pronouncements of Hume. Accordingly, he concedes that such knowledge can never be gained by induction from experience alone. However, this does not mean that there is no a -priori element in it. Indeed, could there not be epistemic concepts and principles which are somehow independent of experience? Thus, while it is correct to assume that “all our knowledge begins with experience,” as the empiricists assert, “it does not follow that it all arises out of experience.” 49 Clearly, “it may well be that even our empirical knowledge is made up of what we receive through impressions and of what our own faculty of knowl­ edge (sensible impressions serving merely as the occasion) supplies from itself.” 50 This means, of course, that the a priori element which man’s reason “supplies from itself” must become Kant’s foremost concern in the First Critique.51 cipiis). See Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1961), VI, 196ft. 48 Karl Barth, From Rousseau to Ritschl, being the translation of eleven chapters of Die Protestantische Theologie im 19. Jahrhundert (London: SCM Press, Ltd., 1959), PP- I54-I5549 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans, by Norman Kemp Smith (London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1929), p. 41. 50 Ibid., pp. 41-42. 51 Our use of the designation “First Critique” for the Kritik der reinen

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13

At the outset two types of a priori judgements are identified: analytic and synthetic.52 Analytic judgements are those in which the predicate merely explicates the subject without adding anything to it. For example, all triangles have three angles. Synthetic judge­ ments, however, are those in which the predicate amplifies the subject so as to extend our knowledge. For example, every event has a cause. While this latter type of judgement, it seems, cannot be said to arise out of our experience, it does serve to add to what we know. Here, then, is the pivotal issue. Kant brings it into focus with this question: “How are a priori synthetic judgements possible ?” 53 He is convinced that to answer this question in an adequate way is to solve the problem posed by Hume’s skepticism. If we are to grasp the Königsberg Philosopher’s highly complex answer to the crucial question noted above, the dynamics of his now famous “Copernican revolution” in the theory of knowledge will need to be clarified. To state the matter as concisely as possible, it might be said that even as Copernicus asserted that the earth revolves around the sun, rather than the sun around the earth, so Kant argues that for objects to be known they must conform to the mind, and not the mind to objects. By no means is this claim in­ tended to imply that the mind actively creates its objects in knowing them. What is being suggested, rather, is that for things to become objects of human knowledge they must conform to specific condi­ tions which are supplied by man’s cognitive faculties. Indeed, it is Kant’s novel contention that the mind is not passive, but active, in the process of knowing. What this means is that it contributes something of its own. But what does the mind contribute? The appropriate response to this query is that while the content of our knowledge derives from sense experience, the form is supplied by human reason. It is this form supplied by reason itself that con­ stitutes the a priori dimension of all our knowledge. Speaking di­ rectly to this issue, Kant writes:

Our knowledge springs from two fundamental sources of the mind; the first is the capacity of receiving representations, ... the second Vernunft is justified by the fact that two other “critiques” by the great Königsberg Philosopher were subsequently published. These two works ap­ peared under the titles Kritik der praktischen Vernunft (1788) and Kritik der Urteilskraft (1790). The earlier of these two treatises deals with ethics or morals, while the later one is concerned with the aesthetic judgement. 52 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 48-51. 53 Ibid., p. 55.

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is the power of knowing an object through these representations ... Through the first an object is given to us, through the second the object is thought in relation to that [given] representation . . ,54

The first of these faculties Kant calls sensibility, the second he designates understanding. Their mutual cooperation is the indis­ pensable condition of all our knowledge of finite, empirical objects. The Königsberg Philosopher’s anlysis of sensibility in the First Critique serves to establish that while it is the noetic channel through which objects are initially introduced to us by means of representations or impressions, it also harbors “forms of intuition,” space and time, which are simultaneously imposed upon all its representations or impressions.55 It would seem, then, that there is no possibility of our experiencing finite, empirical objects apart from space and time. This is the case, quite obviously, not because space and time are objective realities in the world to be known, but because they are subjective forms supplied by the knowing mind itself. Space and time, therefore, are “two pure forms of sensible intuition, serving as principles of a priori knowledge...” 56 In like manner, Kant’s discussion of the understanding as the faculty of thinking the objects of experience advances the notion that it possesses a priori categories of quantity, quality, relation and modality by means of which sensibility’s representations or impres­ sions are organized into a coherent epistemic and conceptual pat­ tern.57 These categories are to be thought of as pure forms of synthesis.58 In other words, they are no more objective realities in the world to be known than are space and time. When taken to­ gether, however, sensibility with its “forms of intuition” and the categories of the understanding render knowledge of finite, empirical reality possible. Because sensibility’s forms and the understanding’s categories are a priori in nature, they are to be considered as necessary dimen­ sions of the human mind. This means that we can describe in advance the general form which all our knowledge of finite, empirical reality will take, since we can know it only by making it conform to the structure of the human mind. However, the content of our 54 Ibid., p. 92. 55 Ibid., pp. 650. 56 Ibid., p. 67. 57 Ibid., pp. 104ft. 58 Ibid., p. in. See p. 113 of the First Critique for a listing of the categories of the understanding.

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knowledge of this reality cannot be anticipated because it must come to us through concrete experience. It would seem, therefore, that if the nature of the human mind is such that it orders represen­ tations or impressions coming to it through the senses in a meaning­ ful way, then synthetic a priori judgements are certainly possible. This means that science and mathematics are perfectly legitimate enterprises.59 Thus, the problem posed by Hume is at least partially resolved. But what about metaphysics and rationalistic theology ? It is here that the Kantian proposals take on dimensions of high significance for the course of theological reflection throughout the nineteenth century and well into our own. Since space and time and the categories of the understanding are applicable only to objects presented by “sensuous intuitions” it is evident that we can only gain certain knowledge of those things that appear to us, phenomena, while “things-in-themselves,” noumena, disconcertingly stretch beyond our noetic capacities.60 To be sure, if we had the power of “nonsensuous” or “intellectual intuition,” it would undoubtedly be possible for the noumenal realm to be known by human reason. But because that power is manifestly lacking in us it seems indisputable that supersensible or transcen­ dent objects infinitely exceed the boundaries of man’s restricted cognitive faculties. By way of summary, then, the forms of our sensibility and the categories of our understanding make mathematical and scientific knowledge of the sensible world which appears to us, the pheno­ menal world, possible. But reason in its pure mode reaches a limit precisely here. It can never penetrate to the supersensible realm of the noumena. We can know that such a realm is, but not what it is. Having clarified his views on the reasonableness of reason Kant boldly repudiates all metaphysics and rationalistic theology as products of the speculative imagination. But this means, among other things, that the traditional arguments for God’s existence are found to be resting on a faulty foundation. Thus, they are demol­ 59 In a footnote in his Introduction to the Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, Lewis W. Beck writes: "Hume did not usually extend his skepticism to mathematics, but, Kant believed, to be consistent with the rest of his philosophy he should have extended his skepticism even to it, and either would have had to do so if he had properly understood the nature of mathematical knowledge or else would have in principle, at least, anticipated Kant’s own discoveries.” (Seep. XIII, n. 7.) 60 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 257h.

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ished in turn.61 Such a task is easily accomplished because any attempt to gain knowledge of the transcendent by means of rational argumentation or reflection is a striving after the impossible. Towards the end of his First Critique the Königsberg Philo­ sopher succintly summarizes the major purpose served by this formidable treatise. He writes: The greatest and perhaps the sole use of all philosophy of pure reason is ... only negative; since it serves not as an organon for the extension but as a discipline for the limitation of pure reason, and, instead of discovering truth, has only the modest merit of guarding against error.62 To this point, therefore, Kant’s intention has not been to extend knowledge, but merely to correct it. He has found it possible to achieve this goal by articulating a transcendental philosophy or a philosophy of pure reason. It should be evident from the preceding exposition that there is a vast difference between a transcendental philosophy or a philo­ sophy of pure reason and a philosophy of the transcendent. “Pure reason,” we are told, “is ... that which contains the principles whereby we know anything absolutely a priori.” 63 Stated other­ wise, pure reason defines man’s formal capacity for knowledge as such. The term “transcendental” is closely related. Kant expresses the matter as follows:

I entitle transcendental all knowledge which is occupied not so much with objects as with the mode of our knowledge of objects in so far as this mode of knowledge is to be possible a priori. A system of such concepts might be entitled transcendental philosophy.64

It would seem, therefore, that “transcendental” and a transcen­ dental philosophy have to do with the conditions of experience or anything relating thereto, which is to say, with the structure of the human mind. To speak of the “transcendent” and a philosophy of the transcendent, on the other hand, is to refer to that which is not found in experience—to that which is beyond experience. On the basis of a considered judgement, Kant deems transcendental philo­ sophy to be both possible and necessary. However, he is convinced that a philosophy of the transcendent is a fruitless, if not contradic­ 61 62 63 84

Ibid., pp. 495-524. Ibid., p. 629. Ibid., p. 58. Ibid., p. 59.

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tory, enterprise. This is the case because there can be no knowledge whatsoever of that which is bey ond experience. Given the state of affairs just described, how is the Königsberg Philosopher going to find it possible to say anything meaningful about religion ? Does not religion seek communion with the tran­ scendent ? And has not the possibility for such communion been ruled out by the “critique of pure reason” ? The Kantian response to these queries is interesting to consider. In order to articulate it, however, we must distinguish between speculative religious knowledge and religion as a form of human conduct. It is only the former preoccupation that is excluded by Kant’s epistemological analysis. With regard to the latter one, we are justified in speaking of “religion within the limits of reason alone.” 65 Anything like an adequate understanding of the Königsberg Philosopher’s approach to religion requires at least a scant prior insight into his view of the moral life of man. This follows from the fact that for Kant religion, as a form of human conduct, is grounded in ethics. Indeed, it is his contention that men move ineluctably from ethics to religion.66 This occurs when they begin to recognize all their moral duties as divine commands.67 The question we must consider at this juncture, then, is: how and why does such a move occur ? The “how” of the matter will lead us into a brief discussion of the Kantian moral philosophy. Following this we must address the “why” dimension of the question, and in doing so we will find ourselves in the midst of the religious issue. The fundamental presupposition upon which Kant bases his ethical theory can be stated concisely: reality as such is moral. Given this assumption, it is possible to go on and posit a universally operative moral law. It is this ubiquitous law, of course, that conditions the moral life of man. However, in as much as it partici­ pates in the essence of the real such a law can never become an object of knowledge for reason in its pure mode. To argue otherwise 65 In 1793 Kant published a book entitled Die Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft. It was translated into English by Theodore M. Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson in 1934 under the title Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone. All citations of this work in the pages to follow are from the second edition, which was published in i960 by Harper & Brothers, New York. The first edition was issued by Open Court Publishing Co., La Salle, Illinois. 66 Ibid., p. 5. 67 Ibid., p. 142.

2

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would be to violate the epistemological limits articulated in the First Critique. Thus, it can only be spoken of as that which ought to be. But this places it squarely within the province of reason in its practical mode. And the distinction between reason in its pure mode and reason in its practical mode is precisely the distinction between epistemology and ethics.68 The idea of a will that is free lies at the very heart of Kant’s ethical theory. He realizes that it would be completely meaningless to discuss moral choices without positing a capacity for making them. Moreover, he understands that man must be free to either accept or reject the leadings of the moral law if he is to be held account­ able for his conduct. Thus, man must have a free will. This is a justifiable postulate of reason in its practical mode.69 However, it is not the only one. The Königsberg Philosopher proffers two others: the immortal soul and God.70 Taken together, these three postulates circumscribe the boundaries within which the moral life of man is to be discussed. It is not really possible to understand Kant’s commitment to the notions of the immortal soul and God apart from an insight into his use of the concept of the summum bonum (the highest or most perfect good).71 The summum bonum is ’’the unconditional totality of the object'’ 72 sought by reason in its practical mode. As such it includes both virtue and happiness. In seeking to elucidate this matter the Königsberg Philosopher argues that the very idea of the summum bonum requires the distribution of happiness “in exact proportion” to virtue, since virtue is “the worth of the person and his worthiness to be happy.” 73 Continuing the discussion, he writes: ... this summum bonum expresses the whole, the perfect good, in which, however, virtue as the condition is always the supreme good, since it has no condition above it; whereas happiness, while it is pleasant to the possessor of it, is not itself absolute and in all respects good, but always presupposes morally right behaviour as its condi­ tion.74 68 Cf., Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason and Other Works on the Theory of Ethics, trans, by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott (6th ed.; London: Longmans, Green and Co., Ltd., 1909), pp. 1-8, 87-100, and 120-121. 69 Ibid., pp. 59, 65ft., and 87-90. 70 Ibid., pp. 88-90, and 218-229. 71 Ibid., pp. 206ft. 72 Ibid., p. 203. 73 Ibid., p. 206. 74 Ibid., pp. 206-207.

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It would seem, then, that the connection between virtue and happi­ ness is practically necessary in the sense that virtue ought to produce happiness. This is not to say, of course, that man’s desire for happiness can be his motive for pursuing virtue. Indeed, to say this would be to contradict the idea of acting for the sake of duty alone—an idea of fundamental importance in Kantian ethics. Nevertheless, it must be recognized that virtue produces happiness even as a cause produces its effect.75 At this point we are confronted with what Kant designates as an “antinomy.” 76 While reason in its practical mode demands a necessary connection between virtue and happiness, the empirical evidence gained from observing man’s life in this world demon­ strates that there is no such necessary connection. What are we to think of such a conflicting state of affairs ? The Königsberg Philosopher suggests that if we postulate the immortality of the soul there is every reason to believe that the injustices of this life will be rectified in the next. This means that one must not suppose that existence in the sensible world is the only existence available to man. It must be recognized that he may exist also as a noumenal reality in the supersensible world. However, such an existence can never be proved by rationalistic argumenta­ tion. It can only be established as a postulate of reason in its prac­ tical mode.77 But how can we be certain that even in the supersensible world there will be the necessary connection between virtue and happiness that reason in its practical mode deems necessary ? To answer this question adequately we must speak of the existence of God, the Supreme Moral Legislator.78 He is the agent through whom the causal connection between virtue and happiness is assured. Again, the existence of such an Infinite Being can never be proved by rationalistic argumentation. It can only be established as a postulate of reason in its practical mode. Kant’s understanding of the central role played by the notions of God and the immortal soul in the moral life of man can be summa­ rily stated in his own words:

75 76 77 78

Ibid., p. 207. Ibid., pp. 209-210. Ibid., pp. 2ioff. Ibid., pp. 22off.

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... without a God and without a world invisible to us now but hoped for, the glorious ideas of morality are indeed objects of approval and admiration, but not springs of purpose and action.79

On this note we are carried into a context where it becomes possi­ ble to see that morality does in fact lead ineluctably to religion. As we have already had occasion to learn, when reason in its practical mode fixes its attention upon the summum bonum it becomes necessary to postulate the existence of a supremely moral, most holy, and truly omnipotent Being who alone can unite virtue and happiness in the highest or most perfect good. At the precise point where men begin to view all their moral duties as the com­ mands of this Being, we can speak of the move from ethics to religion as having occurred. Since a detailed discussion of Kant’s very provocative thoughts on religion would not actually further our purpose in this chapter, we must limit our remarks to a brief consideration of his theological method. The justification for this procedural decision lies in the fact that by approaching this particular matter as he did the Königs­ berg Philosopher effectively posed the problem of theological method for nineteenth- and twentieth-century theology. This problem has two major facets: (i) (2)

What is the locus of religion ? What is the manner of theologizing, or how is talk of God possible ?

The appropriate Kantian response to these two questions and its implications for those who have thought, and are thinking, after him will be given expression in the course of what is to follow. As a member of the Philosophy faculty at the University of Königsberg, Kant proposed an innovation in theological education. It was his feeling that theological students were not being properly prepared for the professional ministry if they only attended lectures in Dogmatic and Biblical Theology. He argued that they should also be required to participate in a special course on “the purely philosophical theory of religion.” 80 This course would be entitled “Philosophical Theology,” and it would concern itself only with “Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone.” Kant’s book bearing this title is the concrete embodiment of his proposal. 79 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 640. 80 Kant, Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 10.

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It is the Königsberg Philosopher’s contention that there are two types of religious systems. On the one hand, there is an historical system of religion which appeals to revelation and which cherishes a body of sacred writings. Christianity, of course, is a notable, if not the most notable, example of this type of religion. On the other hand, there is a purely rational system of religion which appeals to human reason (it its practical mode) and which cherishes the universal moral law. Kant makes it clear that he intends to demon­ strate that the latter constitutes the very essence of the former, and is in fact a more perfect expression of man’s religious consciousness.81 The method by which he proceeds is worthy of consideration. Kant suggests that we think in terms of two circles—a larger one and a smaller one, with the latter placed within the former. The larger circle will represent the historical-revealed religion, while the smaller circle, within the larger one, will represent the rational­ moral religion. This must be the case because “revelation can certainly embrace the pure religion of reason, while, conversely, the second cannot include what is historical in the first.” 82 The philosophical theologian “must confine himself within the [smaller] circle, and, in so doing, must waive consideration of all expe­ rience.” 83 That is, he need not, and indeed must not, pay attention to the historical.84 Having sharply circumscribed these two theo­ logical circles, Kant now declares that the philosophical theologian must move out of his smaller, inner circle into the larger, outer one. Once there, he will select “a piece of revelation” and examine it in the context of the historical system from which it is taken in the light of moral concepts. He will then “see whether it does not lead back to the very same pure rational system of religion”.85 This movement from the smaller, inner circle to the larger, outer one and back again must be continued until all the revealed doctrines of the particular historical system of religion under study have been transformed into moral concepts. Kant’s book, Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, employs the method just outlined in order to gain an insight into the essence of Christianity. His intention is made perfectly clear when he tells 81 82 83 84 85

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

pp. II-I2. p. ii. p. ii. p. 39, note. p. ii.

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us that the doctrines introduced in the Christian catechism must be consistently transformed into moral concepts if they are to become comprehensible to everyone.86 Following Bultmann, we would like to suggest that the methodo­ logy here proposed is really a form of demythologizing—a form which might properly be termed “ethicalizing.” 87 For what Kant is arguing is that all theological statements can be, and in fact should be, transformed into statements about man’s moral consciousness. This argument follows with inexorable logic from the Königsberg Philosopher’s understanding of the nature of the relationship between ethics and religion. Indeed, to realize that the pure moral religion consists “not in dogmas and rites but in the heart’s disposi­ tion to fulfil all human duties as divine commands,” 88 is to under­ stand that all such dogmas and rites must be re-presented in terms that are expressive of the moral life of man. We are then left with this word: “[The] attempt ... to discover in Scripture that sense which harmonizes with the most holy teachings of reason is not only allowable but must be deemed a duty.” 89 The appropriate Kantian response to the two questions previously posed can now be stated with a high degree of certitude. There is no doubt that according to the Königsberg Philosopher, the locus of religion must be identified with an aspect of the moral life of man— that aspect in which he comes to view all his moral duties as divine commands. To theologize, therefore, is to render God-talk intel­ ligible by providing it with acceptable ethical equivalents—equiva­ lents, that is, which are expressive of man’s moral consciousness. Taken together, these remarkably ingenious answers support, in a critical and consistent manner, that religious anthropocentrism which is so characteristic of what Barth has termed “theological Cartesianism.” However, with Kant this general approach to theology achieves a methodological sophistication which becomes all but determinative for generations of Christian thinkers. It is for this reason that we have found it necessary to emphasize the fact that the Königsberg Philosopher stands so conspicuously between Descartes and the Cartesianism of the Neo-Protestants. 86 Ibid., p. 13. 87 Glauben und Verstehen: Gesammelte Aufsätze von Rudolf Bultmann (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1960), III, 87. 88 Kant, Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, p. 79. 89 Ibid., p. 78.

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2ß

But what, precisely, is the nature of the Kantian influence on theology in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries ? Speaking to this very question, Karl Barth points out that there are three avenues of approach which must be taken into account if we are to arrive at an adequate answer.90 Two of them merely follow paths that are well within the sphere of Cartesianism’s influence. The third one, however, leads to a domain where religious anthropo­ centrism no longer holds sway. It was by traveling this latter route that Barth came to effect his Copernican revolution in theological method. There is good reason, then, for us to “map out” these three thoroughfares. Glancing at the first approach we find it to be a rather narrow way which requires theology to take “the Kantian premise just as it is as its standpoint..91 This premise is contained in “a great 'if .. . then’ sentence: if the reality of religion is confined to that which, as religion within the limits of reason alone, is subjected to the self-critique of reason, then religion is that which is fitting to the ideally practical nature of pure reason, and that only.” 92 Thus, among those who follow the first way there is a frank acceptance of the fundamental correctness of the Königsberg Philosopher’s proposals with regard to the theological enterprise, even though minor variations in his program are skillfully executed. Within the boundaries circumscribing this particular approach Barth places Julius A. L. Wegschneider,93 a representative of the so-called rationalistic theologians of the early years of the nineteenth century, and the two most impressive figures of the great Kant-revival which occurred during the second half of the 1800’s, Albrecht Ritschl and Wilhelm Herrmann.94 The second path open is somewhat broader than the one just surveyed. Those who travel it are “convinced that the Kantian premise should not be accepted just as it is ...” 95 We must not assume, however, that this entails a rejection of the Königsberg 90 Barth, From Rousseau to Ritschl, p. 190. 91 Ibid., p. 190. 92 Ibid., p. 189. 93 For a discussion of the theology of Wegschneider see Barth’s Die protestantische Theologie im 19. Jahrhundert Ihre Vorgeschichte und ihre Geschichte (Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag Ag., 1946), pp. 425-432. 94 Barth’s views on Ritschl are set forth in some detail on pp. 390-397 of his From Rousseau to Ritschl. For his careful treatment of the thought of Herrmann see pp. 238-271 of Theology and Church. 95 Barth, From Rousseau to Ritschl, p. 190.

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Philosopher’s basic method. Indeed, the characteristic posture for this company of theologians is to appropriate his methodological insights while subjecting his analysis of the limits of reason “to an immanent critique.” 96 Historically speaking, the particular thrust of such a critique was designed to expand the conception of reason which forms the Kantian premise “by pointing out that there is yet another capacity a priori which is part of the necessities of human reason, apart from the theoretical and practical ones: the capacity of feeling, as Schleiermacher put it, or that of ‘presentiment’, as de Wette preferred to express it ...”97 Nevertheless, this critical activity was bound to initiate changes in the manner of theologizing. But these changes were invariably introduced along the lines laid down by “the Kantian terms for peace.” 98 Thus, instead of “ethicalizing” those who thought in this context merely espoused another form of religious anthropocentrism. It seems quite evident, therefore, that along this route theology proceeds under the banner of Cartesianism, even as it does when the first approach is followed. Barth is convinced that most of the leading theologians of the nineteenth century and almost all of the so-called liberals of the early 1900’s chose to walk the second path. Considering both approaches together, however, we are confronted with a channel for “the direct continuation of the theology of the Enlightenment”99 into our own time. This is the burden of the Kantian heritage which the Swiss Theologian desires to set aside. It is important, at this particular juncture, that we should take into account his attempt to do so. As was previously noted, Barth identifies an alternate route by which to approach the theological enterprise. He believes that it was dimly perceived by Hegel and at least two of his pupils, P. K. Marheineke and I. A. Dorner.100 What they glimpsed, however, was not taken seriously into account by the most prominent of their contemporaries. Thus, the discovery they made “could not get the better of the actual trend of the time, which ... took its course 96 Ibid. 97 Ibid. 98 Ibid. 99 Ibid. 100 Barth includes a discussion of each of these three figures in his Die protestantische Theologie. See pp. 343-378, 442-449, and 524-534. The Hegel chapter appears in translation in From Rousseau to Ritschl, pp. 268-305.

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from Schleiermacher (with the detour via Ritschl) to Troeltsch.” 101 It is the Swiss Theologian’s task, then, to chart a course which has heretofore been all but ignored. The path Barth has chosen to follow leads him to challenge in a thoroughgoing manner every dimension of the Königsberg Philo­ sopher’s approach to the religious problem. This means that both the Kantian premise regarding the nature of the relationship between religion and man’s reason and the methodology appropriate thereto must be subjected to critical assault. Such an assault is begun with the observation that Kant’s preoccupation with “religion within the limits of reason alone” indicates all too clearly that he has seen only “one side of the problem, namely religion as a human function . . ., and not the other side, the significant point to which this func­ tion is related and whence it springs, the dealings, namely, of a God who is not identical with the quintessence of human reason... ” 102 As a consequence of his myopic vision the Königsberg Philosopher’s interpretation of what he did see was adversely affected. That is, because he viewed religion as no more than a human function Kant could not deal with it adequately. But how are we to account for such a monumental failure ? We can only do so by recognizing the Kantian commitment to a philosophical theology—to a theology arbitrarily restricted by a particular understanding of the episte­ mological limits of the human mind. In the face of this recognition Barth contends that it should not be a critical examination of man’s cognitive faculties which conditions the theological enterprise, but rather the fact of the hiddenness of God.103 Until this fundamental insight is apprehended with the greatest possible clarity religious anthropocentrism will reign supreme. As a case in point Barth recalls that Schleiermacher, confronted with the incomprehensibility of God, turned to man and his feeling of “absolute dependence” instead of seeking knowledge of this hidden God in his gracious self-disclosure.104 It would seem, therefore, that the theologian must learn to depend upon revelation and not philosophy, of whatever sort it may be. In the final analysis this is how the Basel Professor views that third alternative to the Kantian problematic. He tells us, most emphatically, that it consists 101 102 103 104

Barth, From Rousseau to Ritschl, p. 191. Ibid. C.D., II/i, 183. Ibid., p. 193.

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in theology resigning itself to stand on its own feet in relation to philosophy, in theology recognizing the point of departure for its method in revelation, just as decidedly as philosophy sees its point of departure in reason, and in theology conducting, therefore, a dialogue with philosophy, and not, wrapping itself up in the mantle of philosophy, a quasi-philosophical monologue.105 This is Barth’s answer to Cartesianism in theology and the key to an understanding of his Copernican revolution in theological method. It should be clear by now that the Barthian quarrel with Neo­ Protestantism is directly related to its basic dependence upon the Königsberg Philosopher’s terms for speaking properly of the locus of religion and the manner of theologizing. In failing to break with these terms it subjected itself again and again to categories alien to its own enterprise. Such categories were imposed as normative by the environment within which Neo-Protestantism found itself.106 However, it saw no difficulty with this because of its conviction that “the guiding principle of theology must be confrontation with the contemporary age and its various conceptions, self-understandings, and self-evidences, its genuine and less genuine 'movements,’ its supposed or real progress.” 107 To be sure, “confrontation with the contemporary age” is a crucial ingredient in the theological enter­ 105 Barth, From Rousseau to Ritscht, p. 191. The position expressed in this quotation conforms to the stance that John B. Cobb, Jr. has designated “theological positivism.” He informs us that those who assume such a stance participate in a movement that “reaffirms the hostility of the Reformers to the Scholastic confidence in philosophical reason, and it employs this hostility more systematically as a methodological principle than was possible or neces­ sary for the Reformers themselves. It is, therefore, both a recovery of Reformation thought and a response to the particular theological-methodo­ logical situation into which Christian thought has come as a result of modern relativism and the accompanying skepticism with respect to the capacity of reason to attain ultimate truth.” Living Options in Protestant Theology: A Survey of Methods (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962), pp. 121-122. It is Cobb’s judgement that Karl Barth is the most consistent and thor­ oughgoing contemporary exponent of theological positivism. While we cannot undertake even a cursory examination of the historical accuracy of Cobb’s statement concerning the roots of the phenomenon in question we do wish to acknowledge the fundamental correctness of his contention with regard to Barth’s methodological posture. Quite clearly, the Swiss Professor’s vehement repudiation of all confidence in philosophy to contri­ bute directly to the theological enterprise, and his stern rejection of natural theology along with every form of philosophical prolegomena to dogmatics support us at this point. 106 Barth, The Humanity of God, p. 19. 107 Ibid., p. 18.

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prise. But when Neo-Protestantism allowed this ingredient to become “its decisive and primary concern” 108 it sold theology into “a new Babylonian captivity”—into bondage to “some sort of anthropology or ontology that is an underlying interpretation of existence, of faith, or of man’s spiritual capacity.” 109 As a conse­ quence, theology found itself in a situation analogous to a ship without a rudder. That is, it was helplessly adrift, without a stablizing and directing principle.110 It is into this situation that Karl Barth steps as critic, prophet, and constructive theologian. Religious anthropocentrism in all its forms is quickly identified as the foe to be opposed. And as the battle progresses it becomes indisputably clear that theology’s task is that of “relating man to God” and not “God to man.” 111 This is the standpoint of the Barthian revolution in theological method. 0. A Developing Theological Positivism112

The standpoint concerning which we have just spoken was not achieved all at once. Indeed, as Professor Torrance of the University of Edinburgh has so masterfully demonstrated,113 Barth’s thought is a developing phenomenon which passes through two phases in route to a third and final phase. Since neither a summary nor an appraisal of Torrance’s demonstration will serve to advance the argument of this chapter, we must confine our remarks in what is to follow to a rather carefully circumscribed presentation of the Swiss Theolo­ gian’s attempt to overcome religious anthropocentrism during each of these three crucial phases of his development. In so doing we shall have occasion to grasp the thread of an essential continuity under­ lying the changing course of his thought. That is, we shall discover that while there is a movement from dialectical to dogmatic thinking, from critical to constructive theology, there is present also a certain unifying theme, namely, the rejection of an anthro­ pological starting point for the theological enterprise. Further­ more, in the course of our discussion we shall strive to make it clear that the repudiation of this particular methodological posture 108 Ibid., p. 19. 109 Barth, Evangelical Theology, p. 8. 110 Barth, The Humanity of God, p. 28. 111 Barth, Evangelical Theological, p. 8. 112 See supra, pp. 44-45, n. 105 for a discussion of the designation “theo­ logical positivism.’’ 113 See his KarlBarth, esp. pp. 33h., 48ft., and 133h.

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motivates Barth’s quest for a truly scientific theology—that is, a theology which develops internally in accord with its own proper source and method.114 i.

First-phase Barthianism

The first of the three phases mentioned above, a phase which is best described as “a critical liberalism,” 115 began in the summer of 1914 when the young Swiss Pastor discovered, to his horror, that almost all of his most respected teachers in theology had publicly declared themselves to be in agreement with the German govern­ ment’s war policy. Commenting on this event, Barth writes:

... I suddenly realized that I could not any longer follow either their ethics and dogmatics or their understanding of the Bible and of history. For me at least, 19th-century theology no longer held any future.116 This disillusionment with the thought-forms of Neo-Protestantism led Barth to search for a different mode of theological expression. He found the clue to such a mode by stepping into “the strange new world within the Bible.” 117 It was here that he came to know the Apostle Paul well enough to write an impressive commentary on his great Letter to the Romans. Having spent nearly two years drafting his treatise, the young Swiss Pastor was pleased when, early in 1919, it finally appeared in printed form.118 114 Torrance points out that Barth’s quest for a truly scientific theology, the results of which are definitively embodied in his Kirchliche Dogmatik, has “met with a very interesting reception from a number of modern physi­ cists who discern a close parallel between the scientific method of pure theology of this sort and that of pure physics. Of particular interest in this connection is the work of the so-called ‘Göttingen circle’ of physicists and theologians.” Ibid., p. 32. For a first-hand discussion of the issue just referred to see Günter Howe, “Parallelen zwischen der Theologie Karl Barths und der heutigen Physik,” Antwort. Karl Barth zum siebzigsten Geburtstag am 10. Mai 1956 (ZollikonZürich: Evangelischer Verlag A.G., 1956), pp. 409-422. 115 Cobb, Living Options, p. 171. For a detailed discussion of Barth’s "critical liberalism” see Torrance, Karl Barth, pp. 33-47. 116 Barth, The Humanity of God, p. 14. See also supra, p. 6, n. 15 where the passage from which this comment is taken is cited in a more complete form. Cf., ibid., p. 40. 117 This is the title of an address which Barth delivered in the church at Lentwil in the autumn of 1916. It appears in his The Word of God and the Word of Man, trans, by Douglas Horton (Torchbook ed.; New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1957), pp. 28-50. 118 Karl Barth, Der Römerbrief (Bern: G. A. Bäschlin, 1919). Only 1,000 copies of this first edition were printed. However, in 1963 EVA-Verlag,

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In this epoch-making document the Godness of God is exalted and the anthropological starting point in theology is called into ques­ tion. The themes of the corruption of fallen man and the coming of God’s truth to earth in Jesus Christ support the argument that is advanced. The old world of sin and death is characterized as that which has come to an end in the new creation begun when God raised his Son from the dead. However, the old aeon still continues to exercise its influence. This is evidenced by all those who, in their failure to recognize the impassable gulf that lies between the finite and the infinite, have focused their attention on religion and ethics. Having become preoccupied with questions of right belief and proper conduct these individuals seem not to have ears to hear the divine No! that has been pronounced against their unreal world—a world in which God is hidden and the meaning of life is confused. What is this but to stand under the law rather than under grace ?119 On the other hand, to recognize that God is restoring man and the world to their proper status before him by speaking the gracious Yes! of the Gospel is to live by faith in the righteousness of God revealed in Jesus Christ. This righteousness is now ours, and through it a true knowledge of the divine shines forth.120 Thus, the mystery of what God is doing in history has been disclosed.121 In other words, what man’s piety and morality could not do, God has done “through the real deed of inaugurating a messianic, divine-earthly history. In Christ humanity is turned once more to God and thereby the basis is laid for the restoration of all that has been lost.” 122 By implication, then, theology must seek to know the truth of God as it is revealed in Jesus Christ, rather than proceeding as if it were an enterprise required to turn inward upon itself.123 Quite clearly, with the publication of this monumental piece of writing religious anthropocentrism was confronted with a note­ Zürich reprinted this edition in an unaltered form. An illuminating “Vorword zum Nachdruck dieses Buches” from the pen of Barth himself is included. All citations of the 1919 Römerbrief in this chapter are from the 1963 reprint. 119 Cf., ibid., pp. i8iff. 120 Ibid., pp. 6-11. 121 Ibid., p. 338. 122 Ibid., p. 8. “. . . durch die reale Tat der Eröffnung einer messianischen, göttlich-irdischen Geschichte. Im Christus ist die Menschheit Gott wieder zugekehrt und damit der Grund gelegt worden zur Wiederbringung alles dessen, was verloren ist.” 123 Cf., ibid., p. 114.

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worthy challenge. However, that challenge had not yet been given its decisive and definitive form of expression. While the foundation had been laid, there was still much work to be done. 2. Second-phaseBarthianism It was with the complete rewriting of his Römerbrief that Barth entered the second phase of his development.124 This occurred during the winter of 1920 and the spring and summer of 1921. In his preface to the second edition of that work the young Swiss Pastor informs us that “the continued study of Paul himself,” along with the contributions of Franz Overbeck, Plato, Kant, Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky provided him with fresh insights requiring expression.125 These insights led him, in time, “from dialectical to dogmatic thinking.” 126 The process was a rather long one, however, for it was not until 1927 that the first Barthian attempt at formal dogmatics received concrete embodiment. Throughout this period Barth con­ tinued the assault on religious anthropocentrism in all its varied forms, and he did so from a perspective that is in basic agreement with the one which characterizes the stance assumed by him in the 1919 edition of the Römerbrief. But this should not cause us to lose sight of the fact that late in 1920 the young Swiss Pastor began to launch out from that perspective in exciting new directions. The most characteristic feature of Barth’s dialectical phase is concisely expressed in a now famous passage from “The Preface to the Second Edition” of the Römerbrief'. ... if I have a system, it is limited to a recognition of what Kierke­ gaard called the “infinite qualitative distinction” between time and eternity, and to my regarding this as possessing negative as well as positive significance: “God is in heaven, and thou art on earth.’ The relation between such a God and such a man, and the relation between such a man and such a God, is for me the theme of the Bible and the essence of philosophy. Philosophers name this KRISIS of human perception—the Prime Cause: the Bible beholds at the same cross-roads—the figure of Jesus Christ.127

In these words the theme of a radical discontinuity between God and man is sounded triumphantly. But along with it is sounded also 124 Torrance, Karl Barth, p. 48. 125 Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, trans, by Edwyn C. Hoskyns (6th ed.; London: Oxford University Press, 1933), pp. 3-4. 126 Torrance, Karl Barth, pp. 48h. 127 Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, p. 10.

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the equally triumphant theme of God’s gracious self-disclosure as Reconciler and Lord in the person of Jesus Christ. In this one we encounter the point of intersection where heaven and earth meet.128 In the light of these two themes the religious anthropocentrism of the Neo-Protestants is shown to be a vain and sinful attempt “to control and domesticate God and his revelation.” 129 It is thereby made to stand in the open under the divine No! which judges it, along with every other human commitment to culture and religion. This is the crisis of human existence brought about when God invades history—when eternity confronts time. What is called for, then, is a thoroughgoing abandonment of all notions of the divine immanence which are unable to take ade­ quately into account God’s transcendent otherness. Having ac­ complished this, man will be in a position to hear the divine Yes! which is the word of God’s grace. Because “grace is the gift of Christ, who exposes the gulf which separates God and man, and by exposing it bridges it”,130 the divine Yes! effectively resolves that crisis brought about as the judgement of the divine No! is being spoken. But whether it be judgement or grace the word is God’s, and man must listen.131 The move from dialectical to dogmatic thinking, previously referred to, is best understood as a transition from critical to constructive theology. Barth’s initial contribution to the construc­ tive task appeared in 1927 under the title Die Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf'. Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes, Prolegomena zur christ­ lichen Dogmatik. However, the Swiss Theologian subsequently came to regard this as a “false start” and undertook to begin the project anew. But the reason that he could do so must be attributed to the fact that he had now entered into the third phase of his develop­ ment. This occurred in the year 1930 and seems to be associated with the offering of a seminar on St. Anselm’s Cur Deus homo 128 Cf., ibid., pp. 91-107. 129 David L. Mueller, “The Theology of Karl Barth and the Nineteenth Century,” Religion in Life, XXXIV, No. 1 (Winter, 1964-65), 83. 130 Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, p. 31. 131 Paul Tillich nicely summarizes the matter to which we have been addressing ourselves when he writes: “Barth’s Commentary on Romans . .. was neither a commentary nor a system, but a prophetic call addressed to religion and culture, to acknowledge the divinity of the divine and to dissolve the neo-Protestant synthesis between God’s and man’s creativity.” “The Present Theological Situation in the Light of the Continental European Development,” Theology Today, VI (October, 1949), 302.

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during the summer semester at the University of Bonn.132 Not too many months later the highly important Fides quaerens intellectum: Anselms Beweis der Existenz Gottes im Zusammenhang seines theo­ logischen Programms was published.133 In 1958, while drafting a “Preface to the Second Edition” of the monograph in question, Barth could make the following pertinent observation: ... in this book on Anselm I am working with a vital key, if not the key, to an understanding of that whole process of thought that has impressed me more and more in my Church Dogmatics as the only one proper to theology.134

Quite clearly, then, there is good reason to suppose that it is this particular document which is the pivotal work standing at a decisive point of transition between Die Christliche Dogmatik of 1927 and the momentous appearance of the first part of the first volume of Die Kirchliche Dogmatik in 1932. Barth himself provides strong support for this claim in an interesting and informative article written for The Christian Century series “How My Mind Has Changed.” Commenting on the decade 1928-1938, he writes: ... in these years I have had to rid myself of the last remnants of a philosophical, i.e., anthropological (in America one says “humanis­ tic” or “naturalistic”) foundation and exposition of Christian doctrine. The real document of this farewell is, in truth, not the much-read brochure Nein!, directed against Brunner in 1934, but 132 Torrance, Karl Barth, pp. 133ft. 133 This work was published by Chr. Kaiser Verlag, München in 1931. It appeared as the third volume in the fourth series of Forschungen zur Ge­ schichte und Lehre des Protestantismus, edited by Paul Althaus, Karl Barth and Karl Heim. A second edition of this pivotal theological treatise was published in 1958 by Evangelischer Verlag A. G., Zollikon-Zürich. The only important change in this later edition concerns the references to Anselm’s writings, which are now quoted for the most part, from S. Anselmi Cantuariensis Archiepiscopi Opera omnia ad fidem codicum recensuit Franciscas Salesius Schmitt, O. S. B., 5 volumes (Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson, 1945-1951). The exceptional refe­ rences alluded to above are quoted, as they were in the 1931 edition, from J. P. Migne’s Patrologia Latina. This change made it possible for the “Bemer­ kung zu den Quellen,” which appeared in the first edition, to be excluded from the second edition. Hereafter this work will be cited as Fides quaerens intellectum. 134 Karl Barth, Anselm: Fides Quaerens Intellectum, trans, from the 2nd German ed. by Ian W. Robertson (Living Age ed.; Cleveland: World Pub­ lishing Company, 1962), p. 11. Hereafter this work will be cited as Anselm.

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rather the book about the evidence for God of Anselm of Canterbury which appeared in 1931. Among all my books I regard this as the one written with the greatest satisfaction.135

Not only does this testimony serve to pinpoint the Swiss Theolo­ gian’s movement to the third phase of his development; it also provides us with an insight into the compelling reason for that shift. By his own admission, Barth was seeking to exorcise the final traces of religious anthropocentrism from his dogmatic proposals. Just what these were will be discussed in the opening pages of our second chapter. At this juncture we are much more interested in providing a highly abbreviated characterization of third-phase Barthianism. 3. Third-phase Barthianism 136 Recalling what we have already learned in the course of our analysis, it should not surprise us to read in the Church Dogmatics that “... without the grace of His revelation, God is definitely not 135 Barth wrote for this series on three different occasions, discussing the thirty-year period 1928-1958. These documents have been collected, together with an Introduction and an Epilogue by John D. Godsey, and published as a book under the title How I Changed My Mind (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1966). The above quotation appears on pp. 42-43 of this work. For those who have access to the collected volumes of The Christian Century the three Barthian contributions appear as follows: 1928-1938, Vol. 52, Part 2, Sept. 13, 1939, pp. 1097-1099 and Sept. 20, 1939, PP- 1132-11341938-1948, Vol. 66, Part 1, March 9, 1949, pp. 298-300 and March 16, 1949, pp. 333-3341948-1958, Vol. 77, Jan.-June i960, January 20, i960, pp. 72-76.

A very charming letter from Barth concerning the Century’s request for his 1948-1958 contribution appears in Vol. 75, July-Dec. 1958, December 31, 1958, pp. 1510-1511. This letter is not included in the book cited immediately above. However, it has been reprinted in The Christian Century Reader, ed. by H. E. Fey and Margaret Franks (New York: Association Press, 1962), pp. 102-105. 136 In his careful description of this particular phase of Barth’s methodo­ logical development, Torrance points out that once the Swiss Theologian had achieved his critical break-through “and the ground was cleared for fresh thinking, the severely dialectical form of his thinking could be dropped and a less austere and more positive and reconciling form of thinking could be taken up in its place. That is indeed what happened. So much is that the case that it would now be a misnomer to speak of his theology as ‘dialectical’, for the emphasis is no longer upon diastasis but upon analogy—i.e. it is no longer a movement of thought setting men apart from God, but a movement referring man back to his source in the grace of God the Creator and Redeemer.” Karl Barth, p. 89. 3

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an object of human cognition, and definitely no object of human cognition is God.” 137 Here, as in the earlier phases of the Basel Professor’s development, revelation is the determinative ground of theological thinking; only now the issue can be more sharply and systematically stated. Barth’s doctrine of revelation—the nodal point of his dogmatic enterprise—is conceptualized under the rubric “the Word of God.” To be sure, the Word of God has a three-fold form, but in all its forms it remains an event of divine self-manifestation which occurs according to God’s sovereign freedom alone.138 This implies that there is no natural characteristic of man that can be construed as a capacity or locus of receptivity for the act of revelation. It is, quite simply, “the miraculous supernatural event of God’s presence.” 139 There can be no doubt, then, that man, considered as a potential re­ ceiver of divine revelation, has no place as an equal partner in the event of God’s self-disclosure.140 Furthermore, the Word of God is at once revelation and recon­ ciliation and is, most properly, identified with Jesus Christ. Indeed, for Barth, there is no possibility of knowledge of God and, by imThe passage just quoted provides us with a rather concise expression of a thesis first argued by Hans Urs von Balthasar in his brilliant study Karl Barth, Darstellung und, Deutung seiner Theologie (Köln: Jakob Hegner Verlag, 1951). The second part of this work is devoted to an insightful presentation of the Swiss Theologian’s development from critical liberalism through dialectical theology to analogical thinking. Balthasar argues that it is this latter Denkform which predominates in Barth’s biblically orientated Kirch­ liche Dogmatik. While a discussion of the Swiss Theologian’s use of analogy would not directly contribute to the argument of this chapter, when we turn to the next one it will be necessary for us to indicate just how this manner of thinking functions in his treatment of Anselm. 137 C. D., II/i, 205-206. 138 C. D., I/i, 98-140. In these pages the Swiss Theologian argues that the Word of God appears in a threefold form: the preached Word, the written Word and the revealed Word. The revealed Word is Jesus Christ, and this is primary. The written Word, which is Holy Scripture, and the preached Word, which is the Church’s proclamation, become what they are as they truly witness to God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. But they can do so only in so far as God makes this possible through the activity of the Holy Spirit. Thus, whatever form his Word takes, God remains the Lord over it. In no case is God’s freedom and sovereignty over his Word to be com­ promised. 139 Cobb, Living Options, p. 175. 140 Cf., C. D., I/2, 1-44 and 203-279 where Jesus Christ as the objective reality and possibility of revelation and the Holy Spirit as the subjective reality and possibility of revelation receive brilliant treatment.

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plication, of the true nature and status of man and world, apart from the revelation given in Jesus Christ who as “Mediator and Recon­ ciler between God and man, is also the Revealer of them both.” 141 Concerning this crucial point, one competent commentator has written the following:

He [Barth] categorically denies that man can know God, the world and man as they really are apart from God’s particular and concrete revelation in Jesus Christ, no matter whether man assumes that he can achieve this knowledge by means of his innate capacities and endowments or whether he thinks that he can gain it on the ground of a general revelation in creation or history.142 Quite clearly, then, to know Jesus Christ in truth means “in truth to know no more and no less than all things, even man, oneself, the cosmos, and the world.” 143 This is the case because “the truth of Jesus Christ is not one truth among others; it is the truth, the universal truth that creates all truth. . . To know Him is to know all.” 144 In as much as God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ is absolutely normative for a true apprehension of God, man and world, it would seem correct to assume that the event of Jesus Christ attested to in the scriptural witness must be viewed as both the alpha and omega of theological discourse. And this is exactly what Barth does assume. Beginning with revelation, the theologian must also return to revelation; source and norm are one and the same. Implicit in the argument just advanced is the notion that Holy Scripture is a unitary witness to God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. And it is precisely such a notion that defines the proper exegetical perspective for the theological enterprise. Early in his Church Dogmatics Barth underscores this very point: This fulness of time, which is identical with Jesus Christ, this pure event in relation to which everything else is not yet an event or has ceased to be one, this “it is finished!” this Deux dixit, to which there are no analogies, is the revelation attested in the Bible. To understand the Bible would mean, from beginning to end and from verse to verse, to understand how everything in it is related to that as to its invisible-visible centre.145 141 Barth, The Humanity of God, p. 47. 142 Herbert Hartwell, The Theology of Karl Barth: An Introduction (London: Gerald Duckworth & Co., Ltd., 1964) p. 48. 143 Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p. 26. 144 Ibid. 145 C. D., 1/1,131.

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In the final analysis, then, two fundamental principles inform Barth’s theological method in its third and final phase. These are: (1) his conception of how God is present in revelation; and (2) his loyalty to the “whole of the Bible as total and normative witness to God’s word.” 146 It is on the basis of these two principles that the Swiss Theologian finds it possible to articulate a dogmatic stance which is not within religious anthropocentrism’s sphere of influence. There is, however, an important question that must be raised at this juncture. Does not the Barthian solution to the problem of “theological Cartesianism” pose at least as many difficulties as it is designed to overcome ? It is this query that will be kept constantly in view throughout the next three chapters of our study. D. Conclusion

With the powerful insights discussed above we are introduced to what might well be referred to as a full-blown theological positivism— that is, to a consistent scheme for the rejection of all anthropo­ logically orientated contributions to the dogmatic enterprise. As we shall strive to make clear in chapter four, this includes, most par­ ticularly, a stern repudiation of any and every form of natural theo­ logy and philosophical prolegomena to theological thinking. Such a stance was, most emphatically, assumed by Barth soon after his break with Neo-Protestantism, and it was in process of development throughout his professional career; however, it was not—as we shall demonstrate in the following chapter—until the writing of the important little book on Anselm that the Swiss Theologian suc­ ceeded in articulating his views with definitive precision. It is our contention, then, that this brilliant treatise established the guide­ lines for a complete and decisive victory over Cartesianism in all its varied forms. But be that as it may, the Church Dogmatics stand as a monument to this victory, and as a superlative expression of Barth’s so-called Copernican revolution in theological method. 146 Cobb, Living Options, p. 178.

CHAPTER TWO

ANSELM AND THE NATURE AND METHOD OF THEOLOGY A. Introduction

Karl Barth was reading in the Anselmian corpus at least as early as December, 1920.1 In his Die Christliche Dogmatik, published in 1927, such crucial reference to the eleventh-century saint was made2 that its author “was promptly accused of Roman Catholicism and of Schleiermacherism.” 3 After resigning as Professor of Dogmatics and New Testament Exegesis at the University of Münster in Westphalia and taking up his post as Professor of Systematic Theology at the University of Bonn, Barth off erred a seminar on what is perhaps Anselm’s most important theological treatise, Cur Deus homo. This was in the summer of 1930. What transpired during this course prompted the decision to undertake a careful study of “the problematical Anselm, the Anselm of Proslogion 2-4 ...” 4 The results of this study were published in 1931 under the title Fides quaerens intellectum'. Anselms Beweis der Existenz Gottes im Zusammenhang seines theologischen Programms.5 The epoch-making significance of the 1931 treatise is partially reflected in the claim that Barth “has done perhaps more than any other one man to stimulate study and discussion of Anselm in the twentieth century.” 6 Such a claim would certainly go unchallenged even by those who do not believe that he has uttered the final pronouncement on the subject at hand.7 When we inquire as to the 1 Revolutionary Theology in the Making, Barth-Thurneysen Correspondence, 1914-1925 trans, by James D. Smart (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1964), p. 552 Cf., Die Christliche Dogmatik, pp. 4, 8, 97ft., 102-103, no, 144, 226ft., 277- 3753 Barth, Anselm, p. 7. 4 Ibid. 5 See supra, p. 55, n. 133. 6 Louis Merton, “Reflections on Some Recent Studies of Saint Anselm,” Monastic Studies, 3 (1965), p. 221. 7 See, for example, Etienne Gilson’s impressive article “Sens et nature de 1’argument de saint Anselme,” Archives d’histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age, IX (1934), pp. 5-6.

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most urgent and immediate circumstances leading the Swiss Theologian to make this enviable contribution, several noteworthy factors disclose themselves. Of primary importance was an increasing dissatisfaction with both the traditional and the more innovative modern interpretations of Anselm’s proof of the existence of God. Barth found himself quite unconvinced by most, if not all, of these attempts to deal, either positively or negatively, with the crucial Proslogion passages. While searching out the causes of this disconcerting state of affairs he came to the realization that a) it is quite impossible to interpret with any degree of adequacy Anselm’s proof of the existence of God without doing so “within the series of other Anselmic Proofs, that is within the general context of his 'proving’, the context of his own particular theological scheme” 8; and b) it is equally impossible to evaluate it apart from a meticulously “exact exegesis of the whole passage (Prosl. 2-4) which is to be regarded as the main text—an exegesis that investigates every word and that also gives as full consideration as possible to Anselm’s discussion with Gaunilo.” 9 Here is where all the others failed, and where Barth seeks success. Closely related to these concerns was the felicitous discovery, presumably made while preparing for the 1930 seminar on the Cur Deus homo, of the intricate movement of the “later” Anselm’s theological method. Barth judged that it was justifiable, even necessary, to analyze and evaluate the Proslogion proof of the existence of God—a contribution of the “early” Anselm—in the light of this discovery.10 This, in fact, is precisely what he has in 8 Barth, Anselm, p. 8. 9 Ibid. It is interesting to note in this context these words from the pen of E. Gilson: “Karl Barth a sounds le texte de saint Anselme ä une ex^gese aussi scrupuleuse que s’il se fut agi d’un 6cret inspire; ...” Archives d’histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age, IX (1934), p. 5. It would seem that Barth was certainly careful to follow his own counsel at this point. 10 Our use of the terms “later” and “early” in this context is guided by the chronology of R. W. Southern as set forth in his book St. Anselm and His Biographer: A Study of Monastic Life and Thought, 1059- c. 1130 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1963). Southern does not employ these des­ ignations himself, but he does provide a rationale for our doing so. According to Southern, the Monologion and the Proslogion, Anselm’s first treatises, belong to the years 1077 and 1078, respectively (p. 50). During this period of his life the eleventh-century saint was living in monastic peace at Bec (pp. 47-48). The Cur Deus homo, on the other hand, was planned and written in the years 1097-1098 when Anselm was living through the “bickerings and controversies” that characterized his early years as Arch-

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view when he writes of interpreting the crucial Proslogion passages in the context {Zusammenhang} of Anselm’s comprehensive theolog­ ical program. Another circumstance leading Barth to devote his energies to writing a book about Anselm had to do with his concern to point up the “value and significance’’ of this venerable theologian’s work.11 It would seem that Roman Catholics and Protestants alike need to learn a lesson here. That is, they must be helped to tran­ scend those prejudices against Anselm canonized by Thomas Aquinas and Immanuel Kant. What is required, therefore, is a fresh per­ spective on the proof of the existence of God set forth in Proslogion 2-4. And, as we have already had an opportunity to learn, such a perspective is provided when the “Proof’’ is dealt with in the total context of Anselm’s theology. It is for the reason just expressed that we must expound Barth’s understanding of “Anselm and the Nature and Method of Theology’’ before turning to a detailed discussion of his ingenious interpretation of the relevant Proslogion passages. Our primary objective in both this chapter and the next, however, is not to assess the historical accuracy of the Barthian reading of the eleventh-century saint, but rather to isolate and clarify the systemic implications of such a reading. That is, we must carefully limit our concern in these two chapters to an exacting discussion of Barth’s use of Anselm in the development of his own distinctive approach to the dogmatic enterprise. In the closing pages of our analysis of Barth’s “Copernican revolution” in theological method we observed that the Basel Professor himself viewed his little book on Anselm as the key document standing at a decisive point of transition between Die Christliche Dogmatik of 1927 and the appearance of the first part of the first volume of Die Kirchliche Dogmatik of 1932.12 Furthermore, we discovered that the Swiss Theologian understood this transition bishop of Canterbury (p. 77). This admirable work “marks the climax of his theological development” (p. 77). Thus, while it was the “early” Anselm who wrote the Monologion and the Proslogion, the Cur Deus homo is the product of the “later” Anselm. It is Barth’s intention to read the Proslogion from the perspective of the Cur Deus homo. For the present any question as to the legitimacy of this interpretative enterprise must remain open. 11 Barth, Anselm, p. 7. 12 See supra, pp. 32-33.

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in terms of the exorcising of the final traces of religious anthropo­ centrism from his dogmatic proposals.13 At this juncture it is crucial to know just what these traces were. Therefore, we must pause to explore the fundamental methodological differences between the two treatises in question. This exploration will allow us to formulate the criteria for determining the role of the Anselm book in the develop­ ment of Barth’s theological positivism.

B. From “Die Christliche Dogmatik” “Die Kirchliche Dogmatik”

to

These words from the “Author’s Forward” to the 1932 revision of the earlier attempt at dogmatics articulate most incisively the central issue to be scrutinized in this section of our presentation: ... to the best of my ability I have cut out in this second issue of the book everything that in the first issue might give the slightest appearance of giving to theology a basis, support, or even a mere justification in the way of existential philosophy ... Because in the former undertaking I can only see a readoption of the line Schleiermacher-Ritschl-Herrmann, and because in any thinkable con­ tinuation of this line I can only see the plain destruction of Pro­ testant theology and the Protestant Church ... I can therefore only say No here.14

What is this but a reaffirmation of the Barthian refusal to approach the theological enterprise from an anthropological starting point ? When the Swiss Theologian focuses upon the notion of “The Nature of the Word of God” in Die Kirchliche Dogmatik he finds it expe­ dient to incorporate a rather lengthy excursus designed to clarify the reasons for this reaffirmation.15 A brief glance at the passage in question, therefore, should serve to disclose the most crucial dimensions of the basic metholodogical refinement distinguishing Barth’s third phase from the one preceding it. When sections five, six and seven of the treatise of 1932 are compared with the corresponding sections of the dogmatics of 1927, it is not at all difficult to see that the author of these works is intent on altering the course of his theological program.16 The necessity to 13 Ibid. 14 C. D„ I/i, IX-X. 15 Ibid., pp. 141-149. 16 In the Church Dogmatics these sections are entitled “The Nature of the Word of God,” “The Knowability of the Word of God” and “The Word of God, Dogma, and Dogmatics.” The sections bearing the same numbers in Die Christliche Dogmatik are designated “Das Wort Gottes und der Mensch

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do so was forced upon him when Friedrich Gogarten and Th. Siegfried made public their respective misunderstandings of the fundamental direction in which the earlier of these two publications seemed to be tending.17 That such misunderstandings could occur at all, however, must be attributed to either a refusal or an inability to perceive Barth’s peculiar usage of the terms “phenomenological” and “existential.” It is his claim that the “adoption of a philosoph­ ical theme” was most definitely not an aim in view in 1927.18 To be sure, he had referred to his analysis of Church proclamation as being phenomenological in nature,19 and, at a strategic turn in the argument, he had gone on to speak of the need “to pass over from the phenomenological to the existential mode of dealing with” the Word of God.20 But this was really meant to be nothing more than an attempt to expound the nature of the Word of God first from the perspective of an objective spectator, and then from the standpoint of self-involvement. Such an approach was deemed to be feasible because he saw nothing wrong with employing “specifically philosophical terminology. .., where it is suitable for incidentally illustrating and emphasising what has to be said with a theological intention ...”21 Nevertheless, it was Siegfried’s position that Barth was actually striving to erect his dogmatics on the foundation of existentialist thinking.22 While this horrified the Swiss Theologian, he found Gogarten’s criticism to be even more disturbing. This interpreter was quick to castigate Barth for not following through on his existentialist insights. And in failing to do so he found him­ self unable to develop a “proper anthropology.” 23 The Swiss Theologian was now convinced that he must have been at least on the way to a “proper anthropology.” 24 Therefore, it is important to begin anew. Under no circumstances is he willing to allow the Word of God to become “a predicate of man.” 25 But this is precisely what

A iVW

als Prediger,” “Das Wort Gottes und der Mensch als Hörer” and “Das Erkanntwerden des Menschen im Worte Gottes.” 17 See Friedrich Gogarten, “Karl Barths Dogmatik,” Theologische Rund­ schau, N.F. 1, 1929, and Th. Siegfried, Das Wort und die Existenz, I (Gotha: L. Klotz, 1930). 18 C. D„ I/i, 141. 19 Barth, Die Christliche Dogmatik, p. 47. 20 C. D., I/i, 141. Cf., Barth, Die Christliche Dogmatik, p. 49. 21 C. D., I/i, 142. 22 Siegfried, op. cit., p. 36. 23 Gogarten, op. cit., p. 66. 24 C. D., I/i, 143.

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Gogarten’s preoccupation with a “proper anthropology” inev­ itably makes it. How can one possibly consider this to be “anything other than a new, or rather an old, natural theology” ? 26 Thus, every trace of existentialist terminology must be eliminated so that no further misunderstandings arise. An informed reader does not need to spend very much time with the 1932 revision of Barth’s earlier attempt at dogmatics to realize how thoroughly he carried out his resolve to turn away from every dependence upon phenomenological and existential considerations.27 Instead of attempting “to derive the doctrine of the nature of the Word of God” from an analysis of the concrete situation of man as preacher and hearer of that Word,28 he now emphasizes the objective reality of the Word of God in its threefold form as the language of God to man.29 This language must be understood as God’s act which happens in His way.30 And because God’s way is His mystery,31 the knowability of the Word of God is conditioned by the divine veiling and unveiling. Thus, it can be said that the objective reality of the Word of God in its threefold form is based upon itself alone, and that man’s knowledge of it is in fact an acknowledgement made possible through the revelatory power and presence of God’s language, which is His act and mystery.32 In the Kirchliche Dogmatik, therefore, it is not phenomenological and existential considerations that determine and shape theological concepts and their contents, but rather the objective reality of the Triune God in His gracious self-disclosure. The development we have just sketched has profound methodologi­ cal implications. While the treatise of 1927 tended to support the 26 Ibid., p. 149. 27 Concerning his use of phenomenological and existential considerations in Die Christliche Dogmatik, the Swiss Theologian writes the following: “. . . the objection which I have since made to myself is this, that whatever their content and their mutual relationship may be, these concepts cannot in any way make or signify decisive salients on the path of dogmatic thinking, as seemed there to be taken for granted.” C.D., I/i, 141. 28 Ibid., p. 143. In this same context Barth points out that sections 5 and 6 “in the first edition, which deal with man as the preacher and as the hearer of the Word of God, may be dropped out completely, because their essential content is partly anticipated in §§ 3-4 of the new edition, partly it belongs to the problem of the knowledge of the Word of God, in part it has a more fitting place in homiletics than in dogmatics” (pp. 148-149). 29 Ibid., pp. 150ft. 30 Ibid., pp. 162ft. 31 Ibid., pp. 1840. 32 Ibid., pp. 213ft.

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notion that dogmatics proceeds by moving from possibility to reality,33 the revision of this work speaks first of reality and only then of possibility.34 This is the particular priority that controls the course of Barth’s theology in its third phase. For example, the threefold form of the Word of God and its nature are treated before its knowability.35 Then, the discussion of Jesus Christ as the objec­ tive reality of revelation and the Holy Spirit as the subjective reality of revelation precedes the examination of the question of their possibility.36 Again, the analysis of “the fulfilment of the knowledge of God” stands before the investigation of “the know­ ability of God.” 37 Finally, the reality of faith is taken into consid­ eration prior to the possibility of faith.38 It is difficult to imagine how the rejection of religious anthropocentrism could be more complete. We are now in a position to summarize the criteria for assessing the contribution of the Anselm book to Barth’s evolving theological program. Of primary importance, of course, is the total dependence of dogmatics on a faithful acknowledgement of God’s gracious self­ disclosure in Jesus Christ and the witness to this event contained in Holy Scripture and the Church’s proclamation. Next in order is the systematic refusal to allow theology to accept any “material in­ struction” from some kind of philosophical or anthropological commitment.39 This implies the need for a vigorous and thorough­ going rejection of natural theology. Taken together, the elements just noted point us towards the methodological move from reality to possibility. The exposition to follow will be executed with these basic criteria in view. 33 Cf., Barth, Die Christliche Dogmatik, pp. 214ft., and pp. 284ft. It is the Swiss Theologian’s contention that even in 1927 he did not wish to have it thought that he was allowing possibility to take precedence over reality. Nevertheless, because of the structure of his argument this was not entirely clear. Thus, he was “immediately misunderstood.” C. D., I/2, 9-10. 34 Concerning this point, Barth writes: “As the approach to the doctrine of the Trinity is affected by the realisation that in order to perceive God’s revelation at all we must follow the order of being in Holy Scripture and first ask about God as the Subject of revelation, so the approach to Christo­ logy is affected by the realisation that first we have to put the question of fact, and then the question of interpretation. Or . . . we must first under­ stand the reality of Jesus Christ as such, and then by reading from the tablet of this reality, understand the possibility involved in it . . .” C. D., I/2, 7-8. 35 C. D., I/i, sections four, five and six. 36 C. D., I/2, sections thirteen and sixteen. 37 C. D., II/1, sections twenty five and twenty six. 38 C. D., IV/1, section sixty three. 39 C. D., I/i, 141 and 148.

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C. The Nature and Method of Theology in Barth’s Study of Anselm

In order to prepare the way for his highly complex, and unques­ tionably brilliant, discussion of Anselm’s theological scheme, Barth strives with care to arrive at a clear comprehension of the term “proof” (probare, probatiof This is a masterful strategy on his part in as much as the Proof of Proslogion 2-4 cannot be expected to yield to analysis in any way that is satisfactory until there is a measure of insight gained relative to what “to prove” means, quite generally, in the context of the Anselmian corpus. After studying the matter with thoroughness, Barth draws the conclusion that whenever the eleventh-century saint speaks of “proof” he is refer­ ring to “a definite result that his work has actually produced or is expected to produce.” 40 However, it must not be thought that Anselm’s fundamental concern is with “proof.” Rather, it is with “understanding.” That is, intelligere takes precedence over probare. Proof comes to the fore as a consequence of understanding having been sought and found. The Swiss Theologian puts the matter most succinctly when he writes: As intelligere is achieved it issues in probare ... what to prove means is that the validity of certain propositions advocated by Anselm is established over against those who doubt or deny them; that is to say, it means the polemical-apologetic result of intel­ ligere.41 If the question is now raised as to what it is that understands, the answer can only be “faith”: fides quaerens intellectum. Thus, we are confronted here with a very definite order of relationship. Faith is presupposed by the understanding that it seeks, and the under­ standing that faith seeks and finds issues in proof .This whole process is what theology is all about. In an effort to clarify this process further we will ask, and attempt to answer, the following five questions:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Why is theology necessary ? How is it possible ? What are its conditions ? In what manner does it proceed ? What is its aim ?

The informed reader will recognize immediately that these five questions correspond to the five sections of the first part of Barth’s 40 Barth, Anselm, p. 14. 41 Ibid.

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book on Anselm. This is no mere expediency. To alter the sequence of this book's presentation is to run the risk of distorting its care­ fully contracted argument. Therefore, we have chosen to proceed in accordance with the format just outlined. i. Why is theology necessary ? If intelligere has a polemical-apologetic result (jorobare), then it also has an aesthetic dimension (pulchritudo) that issues in joy (delectari, laetificare). These are the two aims of Anselm’s intelligere. They follow whenever he successfully achieves a demonstration of the ratio of his faith. However, these two aims are not sufficient, in themselves, to explain the necessity of intelligere. More precisely, the necessity of intelligere lies neither in the usefulness of its polemical-apologetic result nor in the enjoyment of its delightful beauty. Rather, it lies in the “desire” of faith itself for understanding: fides quaerens intellectum. Here, then, we encounter the necessity of intelligere, which is really the necessity for theology. Theology is, quite obviously, the intellectus fidei. This means that the foundational presupposition of theology is faith. It is faith that seeks understanding—an understanding that results in “proof” and “joy.” However, faith is driven along the path of this seeking not by a longing for the results just mentioned, but rather by its inher­ ent desire for understanding. In other words, “the quaerens intel­ lectum is really immanent in fides.” 42 What this means is that there can be no “reversal of this order of compulsion.” 43 The faith that desires to understand is primary. The results that follow from the achievement of this understanding are secondary. Barth puts it this way: “Anselm wants 'proof’ and ‘joy’ because he wants intel­ ligere and he wants intelligere because he believes.” 44 But what about this fides that is striving for understanding or knowledge? From whence does it come, and how is it to be charac­ terized? To these questions the Swiss Theologian provides only tantalizingly sketchy answers. Here is one of the many places in the treatise of 1931 where its author assumes that the reader already has a scholarly familiarity with Anselm’s thought. We are told that faith, in the Anselmian scheme, is an act of living 42 Ibid., p. 16. 43 Ibid., p. 17. 44 Ibid., pp. 16-17.

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obedience to God, involving rectitude of will.45 It is believing, or assenting to, what the sacred writings and the authoritative documents of the Christian Church have to say. Stated in slightly different terms, faith is “primarily a movement of the will” in re­ sponse to the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ.” 46 It is in this Word that the truth of God and God as the truth are disclosed. That the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ” comes to us and that “we have the rectitudo volendi to receive it, is grace.” 4748This means, of course, that man is not the author of his own faith; he does not provide himself with either the opportunity or the ability to believe. For these, man is totally dependent upon the prevenient grace of God (gratia Deifiraeveniente). However, to have faith is anything but a passive state of affairs. The faithful man does not simply believe. Rather, he engages in an active striving—a striving for understanding, for knowledge. Such striving is really a tender e in Deum\ it is a striving of the human will into God and not merely towards God (tendere ad Deurn). When this occurs those who have faith come to participate “(albeit in a manner limited by creatureliness) in God’s mode of Being .. . in God’s aseity, in the matchless glory of his very Self . ..”49 45 Ibid., p. 22. 46 Ibid., pp. 19 and 22. Barth goes on to point out the extreme difficulty involved in determining just what it was that Anselm understood by the verbum praedicantium Christum. It is, of course, certain that the Bible is to be given pride of place here. Next in order are “those inferences that are consistent with its text ...” But exactly what inferences are held in view at this juncture ? First of all, there are the following three creeds: the Symbolum Romanum, the Symbolum Nicaeno-Constantinopolitanum, and the Symbolum Quicumque. In addition, the eleventh-century saint was willing to allow “great latitude for the adoption of further necessary elements of faith that are still outside formulated dogma.” Moreover, he was ready to pass a most favorable judgement upon the writings of the Church Fathers, and especially those of Augustine. In fact, he openly acknowledged the maxime beati Augustini “as the norm, if not the source of his thinking.” Finally, the authoritative pronouncements of the Pope at Rome are to be considered. However, the question as to the relative order of precedence to be given to these "inferences” is simply not answered in the Anselmian literature. This is undoubtedly due to the historical fact that such a question was not a very pressing one in the eleventh century. Ibid., pp. 22-24. 47 Ibid., p.19. 48 See, for example, Saint Anselm: Basic Writings, trans, by S. N. Deane (2d ed.,; La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Company, 1962), pp. 139-141. 49 Barth, Anselm, p. 17.

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This active striving of faith for understanding or knowledge is the moving force impelling the theological enterprise. Indeed, theology is, as we have already had occasion to note, the intellectus fidei. Quite obviously, then, it is in this context that the crucial problem of the relationship between faith and reason comes most sharply into focus. In the presence of the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ” one needs faith, one needs to believe, precisely because such a Word cannot be comprehended by the autonomous human reason. This is the case because fallen man’s mind has been darkened and debilitated by sin.50 Thus it is that Anselm causes his interlocutor in the Cur Deus homo to say: “... the right order requires that we should believe the deep things of the Christian faith before we undertake to discuss them by reason... ” 51 In other words, it is only after men have faith that they are in a position to begin seeking an understanding of the things they believe. Faith precedes reason, but this does not mean that it is irrational.52 Indeed, as we shall discover a bit later, there is such a thing as the ratio fidei. However, the fact remains that reason alone, apart from faith, is completely powerless when it attempts to penetrate Christianity’s awesome mysteries. This means that the theologian must be a man of faith; he must believe before he attempts to understand. If he assumes any other stance than this he is simply not being theological. The priority of faith over reason must invariably obtain.53 50 See, for example, St. Anselm’s Proslogion with A Reply on Behalf of the Fool by Gaunilo and the Author’s Reply to Gaunilo, trans, with an Introducation and Philosophical Commentary by M. J. Charlesworth (London: Oxford University Press, 1965), pp. 111-115 and 139. 51 A Scholastic Miscellany: Anselm to Ockham, ed. and trans, by Eugene R. Fairweather, The Library of Christian Classics, Vol. X (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956), p. 102. 52 Barth, Anselm, p. 22. 53 For a discussion of “Faith and Reason in the Cur Deus Homo” see Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, pp. 30-40. Here it is argued that there are two distinct sides to the eleventh-century saint’s thinking concerning the problem of the relationship between faith and reason. “On the one hand, reason is allowed an independent function prior to faith, and, in some sense, reason can bring us to assent to the truths of faith. On the other hand, St. Anselm clearly acknowledges that faith is possible without any kind of prior rational preparation or justification, and that for the believer the only function of reason is to understand what is already believed. Clearly, as they stand, these two sides of St. Anselm’s thought are not consistent, and some kind of distinction between the function of reason which brings us to faith

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The implications of this line of argumentation for a general characterization of the goal of the theological enterprise are of high importance. In as much as theology does not and cannot call faith into being, nor even confirm it in the face of doubt, its relative suc­ cesses and failures have no bearing whatsoever on faith’s exist­ ence.54 Indeed, it is by the prevenient grace of God {gratia Dei frraeveniente) that faith stands and is assured. In other words, faith is determined by its object. Thus Barth can inform us, interpreting Anselm, that: “It is the presupposition of all theological inquiry that faith as such remains undisturbed by the vagaries of the theo­ logical 'yes’ and ‘no’.” 55 Theology is really human propositions that come to be as a result of faith’s desire for understanding. But faith and its object are not dependent in any way upon what these human propositions con­ tribute or fail to contribute. When theology falls short of its goal, as it inevitably will, its expected results are, accordingly, thereby diminished. That is, proof and joy are not elicited in their fullest measure, if at all. But faith and its object remain the same. It is the object of faith that determines faith’s existence and bestows upon it the desire for understanding, and it is only because of this that we can come to speak of theology at all. Therefore, Barth can write: “Credo ut intelligam means: It is my very faith itself that summons me to knowledge.” 56 Herein lies the necessity for theology.57 and the function of reason which operates within faith would have to be made to make them consistent” (p. 34). Charlesworth goes on to contend that if the one side of Anselm’s thought on faith and reason is emphasized he can be made “into a rationalist for whom not only the ‘preambles’ or presup­ positions of faith are rationally demonstrable, but also the mysteries of faith themselves” (p. 36). However, if the other side of his thinking on this subject is stressed “we can equally easily make him into a quasi-fideist maintaining that nothing can be known about God save on the basis of faith” (p. 37). In terms of this analysis Barth’s interpretation of the eleventh-century saint’s attitude towards faith and reason is one-sided in favor of the latter alterna­ tive. He is supported here by Richard McKeon who insists that according to Anselm “faith can exist without reason, but reason cannot exist without faith.” Selections From Medieval Philosophers, I (New York: Charles Scrib­ ner’s Sons, 1929), 142. 54 Barth, Anselm, p. 17. 55 Ibid., p. 18. 56 Ibid., p. 18. 57 At this juncture a certain critical issue must be noted. It is closely related to the fact that to this point we have been introduced only to what Arthur C. McGill has termed “the believing Anselm.” See The Many-Faced Argument: Recent Studies on the Ontological Argument for the Existence of God, ed. by John Hick and Arthur C. McGill (New York: Macmillian Co., 1967),

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2. How is theology possible?

Because faith is believing or assenting to the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ,” and because theology is a necessity that is grounded in the striving of faith to understand what it believes or assents to, because it is the pp. 56-64. But there is also “the rationalistic Anselm/' as well as “the mystical Anselm.’’ [Ibid., pp. 51-56 and 64-69.) The problematic element here is that all three of these “Anselms” seem to have found their raison d’etre in the “real” Anselm. Those who champion the thesis that the eleventh­ century saint was a thoroughgoing rationalist find it possible to cite a group of texts which tend to indicate that he undoubtedly manifested, above all else, a concern “to meet the demands of autonomous reason.” (Ibid., p. 54.) These passages clearly reveal the dynamics of a man who was convinced that the power of reason could both satisfy his own intellectual craving for know­ ledge of “the highest Christian mysteries,” and compel the unbeliever and the heretic to see the error of their ways. (Ibid., p. 52) The advocates of “the rationalistic Anselm,” therefore, see him proceeding by translating the articles of the Church’s Credo into terms which are understandable by reason alone so that they can be dealt with in a purely logical fashion. In this way, i t is contended, the truth and necessity of these articles can be made perfectly evident to men who possess even the most ordinary intelligence. We have here a picture of the eleventh-century saint which has very little in common with the sketch drawn by Barth. However, there is at least one point of agreement between these opponents: they both assert that Anselm displays a deep and abiding interest in satisfying “the most rigorous demands of dialectical reasoning.” (Ibid., p. 64.) Anselm Stolz takes serious issue with this very point of agreement. He does so in the name of “the mystical Anselm.” Advancing a remarkably innovative approach to the writings of the eleventh-century saint, Father Stolz attempts to make a case for viewing at least some of his treatises as works of mystical theology. This Benedictine scholar contends that in these documents logical argumentation is employed for the sole purpose of eliciting “an experience of God ...” (Ibid., p. 65.) This is particularly true of the Proslogion. Here it becomes quite evident that Anselm’s “real concern is to address God, not to argue about him.” (Ibid., p. 66. Cf., p. 202.) The language of prayer, which is the most conspicuous feature of this treatise, strongly supports a thesis of this sort. To be sure, writings such as the Monologion present another perspective on the move­ ment of Anselm’s mind. But this document, and those like it, belong to a different genre entirely. We have to do here with doctrinal tracts (Lehr­ haften) in which logical argumentation predominates. However, in as much as this is not the only concern manifested by the eleventh-century saint it would be a mistake to read all of his writings with the same jaundiced eye. It is Stolz’ position that in discovering “the mystical Anselm” one will be led into new depths of lucidity wherein a vision of God presents itself. Given the radicalness of this interpretative stance the only other scholars of note who have pursued it are Paul Vignaux and Henri de Lubac. See Vignaux’s Philosophy in the Middle Ages: An Introduction (New York and Cleveland: World Publishing Co., 1959), pp. 39-40, 51, and de Lubac’s “Sur le Chapitre XIV du Proslogion,” Spicilegium Beccense (Paris: J. Vrin, 1959), pp. 299-302. It would seem, therefore, that Barth’s understanding of Anselm’s thought is developed from only one of a number of possible perspectives. 4

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intellectus fidei, there can be no doubt that the possibility of theology must be sought in the very special relationship that exists between the faith of the Christian (his subjective credo) and the preaching and teaching of the Church (its objective Credo). Stated a bit more concisely, the possibility of theology is really the possibility of advancing from credere to intelligere, and such a possibility is strictly determined by the special relationship just mentioned. Quite obviously, then, it is to a discussion of this relationship that we must now turn. Barth identifies a “twofold affinity between credere and intel­ ligere” in the Anselm literature.58 This identification underscores the fact that faith, as credere of the Credo, is not to be thought of as irrational or illogical. Nor is it to be set apart as something com­ pletely different from understanding or knowledge. Indeed, how could it be otherwise if faith is able to respond to the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ” ? The twofold affinity in question rests upon a crucial distinction being drawn between the intelligere which faith, as credere of the Credo, itself is, and the intelligere of which it is desirous. The differ­ ence between these two forms of intelligere is really one of degree rather than kind.59 In turning to the first dimension of the twofold affinity just alluded to it is important to note that there is something quite fundamental that faith and unbelief have in common. When they hear the Christian message proclaimed there is an immediate awareness of the fact that the words are coherently related both logically and grammatically. In so far as this is the case, faith and unbelief can be said to share a certain understanding. Stated in a more technical manner, in the presence of the preached Word faith and unbelief together are confronted by a vox significans rem which, when understood, comes to exist in intellectu.60 But here is where the commonality ends. For unbelief, in contradistinction to faith, there is never anything more than this esse in intellectu. It simply fails to achieve an awareness of the intelligere esse in re. In other words, unbelief finds itself quite unable to apprehend the reality (res) to which the words of preaching point. Therefore, it cannot assent to 58 Barth, Anselm, p. 25. 59 Ibid., p. 24. 60 Ibid., p. 24.

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Christian proclamation as the Truth.61 In as much as it is entirely otherwise with faith we can easily recognize its status as intelligere. But there is yet a second dimension belonging to the twofold affinity between credere and intelligere. This has to do, quite ob­ viously, with the fact that it is of the essence of faith to seek under­ standing and knowledge. Barth, interpreting Anselm, characterizes this as a “desire” on faith's part. Thus, what the Christian believes and assents to, he strives to bring to complete awareness. Or, stated in a slightly different way, “the ultimate in knowledge” has been “already anticipated in faith.” 62 It is here that the fides quaerens intellectum theme takes on its most consistent meaning. The foregoing analysis should have served to make it abundantly clear that faith, in its quest for understanding or knowledge, is by no means reaching outside of itself. Indeed, both its terminus a quo and its terminus ad quern are contained within the special relation­ ship that exists between the credo of the Christian and the Credo of the Church. In moving from credere to intelligere the thinking Christian is merely attempting to close the gap that separates assent from awareness. And, as Barth is quick to remind us, both “the beginning and the end are already given in faith ...” 63 This means that theology is really the process of faith reflecting or meditating upon itself.64 Such reflection or meditation takes place within the limits and under the compulsion of faith's own inner rationality. That rationality will support the translation of an assent to the “that it is,” to the quod sit, of an article of belief into an awareness of its particular “how it might be,” its quomodo sit, but it will definitely not allow for any fundamental questioning of the “that it is.” An intelligere that transgresses this boundary is no longer the intellectus fidei, it is no longer theology.65 What started 61 Ibid., pp. 24-25. It is in this context that faith is defined as “assent to what is preached as the Truth, assent for the sake of Christ who is its real and ultimate Author, and who, himself the Truth, can proclaim only the Truth” (p. 25). This is perfectly consistent with an assertion made earlier in the discussion: “. . . the Word of Christ is identical with the ‘Word of those who preach Christ’ ... (p. 22). 82 Ibid., p. 25. 83 Ibid., p. 25. 64 It is noteworthy that throughout his commentary on Anselm the German word Barth makes use of in translating intelligere is Nachdenken. This certainly lends support to our characterization of theology as the process of faith reflecting or meditating upon itself. 85 We have introduced here, for the sake of a coherent presentation of the case for the possibility of theology, a line of argumentation that will be taken

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out as faith, must conclude as faith. But it is precisely faith’s understanding of itself that stands between. If it is true that the subjective credo of the Christian has the objective Credo of the Church "as its unimpeachable point of reference,” 66 and if it is also true that theology is what the process of moving from credere to intelligere within the limits and under the compulsion of faith’s own inner rationality is all about, then it follows without question that the objective Credo of the Church is what “makes the science of theology possible and gives it a basis.” 67 Understood from this vantage point, Anselm’s use of the credo ut intelligam formula signifies neither “an intellectual storming of the gates of heaven” nor “a sacrificium intellectus.” 68 Rather, it stands as the humble motto of a Christian theologian who hungers after the fidei ratio even though he already possesses “the certainty of faith.” 69

3. What are the conditions of theology? Having established that the necessity for theology is rooted in faith’s voracious desire for understanding, and that theology is possible in so far as it is circumspectly conceived as “science of the Credo,” 70 Barth can proceed to a discussion of the specific condi­ tions which both guide and limit the enterprise in question. These conditions are eight in number, and considered together they provide a remarkably concise and precise characterization of what Barth judges Anselm’s conception of the nature of theology to be. At the very outset Barth emphasizes the fact that because theology is “science of the Credo” it has a “positive” character.71 This means that it takes place on the basis of that which “has already been spoken and affirmed.” 72 Thus, under no circumstance up once again and developed even further when we turn to a discussion of its conditions. Barth himself treats the issues alluded to at this point in our text when he comments upon the first and second conditions of theology on pp. 26-28 of his Anselm book. 66 Barth, Anselm, p. 24. 67 Ibid., p. 26. 68 Ibid., p. 26. For a discussion of the place of the credo ut intelligam formula in St. Augustine’s thought see Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, pp. 26-30. 69 Barth, Anselm, p. 21. 70 Ibid., p. 26. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid., p. 27.

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is theology to engage in speculative exercises. These would tend to call its vocation as the intellectus fidei into question. At every stage in his quest for understanding or knowledge the believer, who has now become a theologian, must be careful to recall that faith is the presupposition of this quest. What is being sought, then, is understanding or knowledge of faith. In other words, the under­ standing or knowledge in question "cannot be anything but an extension and explication of that acceptance of the Credo of the Church, which faith itself already implied.” 73 The implication of this sequence of reasoning is that theology, as the science of faith, simply cannot deny or even question the objective ground upon which it stands without if so facto ceasing "to be either 'faithful’ or 'scientific’.” 74 That objective ground is, of course, the Credo of the Church. This first condition of theology is intimately related to yet a second one. Here we are concerned with the theologian’s responsi­ bility to inquire into the "how it might be,” the quomodo sit, of the Christian faith. Such an inquiry is a humble one that carefully observes its proper limit. The limit in question is defined by the factuality, the sheer givenness, of the articles of faith. These must be seen as truths of revelation which are simply not open to question. It is the theologian’s task, then, to seek to demonstrate the inner rational necessity of these truths and to strive to understand that this necessity receives its impetus from their very factuality.75 But in no wise is he to raise a challenge with regard to this factuality. If he were to attempt to go beyond a comprehension of the truths of revelation in their awesome incomprehensibility to a clever program designed either to verify or to falsify them, he would be like a fool who, though he hears the revealed Word and has it in intel­ lectu, yet because the res, the fact of revelation, escapes him, still asks for an external necessity, a quomodo, which he can find only in the inner necessity, in the esse, of the truth itself which is being proclaimed and which he is calling in question.76

Quite obviously, this would be an absurd and impossible enterprise. But, as we shall see in the next chapter, this is precisely the "impos­ sible possibility”—this is the sinful by-product of unbelief. It is not, 73 74 75 76

Ibid., pp. 26-27. Ibid., p. 27. Ibid., p. 28. Ibid., p. 28.

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however, theology, at least as Barth has come to understand it through his study of Anselm.77 Theology’s third condition is defined by the inescapable fact that “every theological statement is an inadequate expression of its object.” 78 This is an inevitable consequence of the incomprehen­ sible greatness of God—the God who “shatters every syllogism.” 79 Human conceptions are limited in the sense that they are always of objects other than God. They are never able to ascend to the level of the divine. Nevertheless, because God is the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, and because all that is participates in his reality, it is possible for our limited human conceptions, by a certain similitude or image {per aliquant similitudinem aut imaginem), to express in a symbolic fashion that which is otherwise quite inexpressible.80 But this means that even a circumspect theology can only be relative and relatively effective. Yet this should not cause it to be ashamed. Caution rather than shame is its most proper posture as it faces the fact of being thus conditioned. This attitude of caution on the part of theology leads us to consider its fourth condition. Here we encounter an important distinction between scientific certainty and the certainty of faith— between relative certainty and a certainty which is absolute. Theological statements are relative in nature. They are “contested statements—challenged by the sheer incomparability of their object.” 81 Quite obviously, then, theological statements possess only scientific certainty. Thus, they are always subject to corrective development. The only time a theologian speaks with absolute certainty is when he is quoting Holy Scripture or the sacred author­ ities. But then he is not doing theology. Indeed, it seems clear that 77 We do not wish to suggest that Barth did not tend to view theology in this way prior to 1930. Indeed, sections seven, twenty four and twenty five of Die Christliche Dogmatik seem to make it perfectly evident that he did. But even at this time Anselm was pointing the way for him. (See esp. pp. 97 ft.) Nevertheless, there was in that treatise a certain unclarity about the matter due to an unfortunate employment of the terms ‘‘phenomenological” and "existential” and the peculiar structure of sections five and six. This unclarity is no longer lurking in the pages of the Church Dogmatics. The intervening encounter with Anselm made it possible for the Swiss Theologian to speak consistently of theology as faithful reflection or meditation upon the revealed Word of God. 78 Barth, Anselm, p. 29. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid., pp. 29 and 40. 81 Ibid., p. 30.

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“the task of theology ... begins at the very place where biblical quotation stops.” 82 It should not be a surprise, therefore, to learn that the fifth condition in the series of eight we are presently considering has to do with the fact that “fundamentally it is possible and indeed necessary for the science of theology to advance along its entire front.” 83 Since the time of the Church Fathers the theological enterprise has been progressing through stops and starts in its effort to achieve an ever more complete understanding of the Christian faith. This dynamic movement is directed by “the wisdom of God” which opens to man, as it is good for him, the path “from one ratio to an even higher ratio.” 84 In so far as this is the case it must be recognized that the theological task is never complete, at least in this world. In each and every generation there are new rationes to be discovered and explicated. In turning to the sixth condition we are provided with the “one concrete criterion for all theological statements ...” 85 This criterion functions as the basic consideration in any judgement as to whether “a theologoumenon is admissible or not.” 86 The criterion here in question is the text of Holy Scripture. Thus, we have the following rule: If a theological proposition does not contradict the Bible it is tobe considered valid.87 However, this rule, in and of itself, does not furnish us with a standard for determining the degree to which a particular theological proposition contributes to the progress in intelligere discussed under the last condition. Indeed, such a verdict can be passed only in a provisional way by “the 82 Ibid,., p. 31. 83 Ibid., p. 31. 84 Ibid., p. 32. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid., p. 33. 87 This is but a highly condensed version of what Barth terms “Anselm’s rule.” In its expanded form this rule defines both the criterion for the accept­ ability of any theological proposition whatever and the standard by which one knows whether or not one is actually dealing with a theological propo­ sition. There is some justification, then, for quoting this rule in full: “If a proposition accords with the actual wording of the Bible or with the direct inferences from it, then naturally it is valid with absolute certainty, but just because of this agreement it is not strictly a theological proposition. If, on the other hand, it is a strictly theological proposition formed independ­ ently of the actual wording of Scripture, then the fact that it does not contradict the biblical text, determines its validity. But if it did contradict the Bible, however attractive it might be on other grounds, it would be rendered invalid.” Ibid.

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author, his readers, those with whom he carries on the debate and those who listen to it.” 88 But ultimately there is no final criterion here. This has to do with the fact that theological propositions are merely scientifically certain. It is important to note that Holy Scripture has now been desig­ nated as both the source and the norm of the theological enterprise.89 As source it “forms the basic stability of the Credo to which the credere and therefore the intelligere refer.” 90 As norm it functions as the authoritative standard of judgement determining the admis­ sibility and viability of all technical statements formulated in the process of faith coming to an understanding of itself. It is, in other words, the auctoritas veritatis, quam ratio colligit.91 The significance of this appeal to Holy Scripture as both the source and the norm of theology will claim our attention in a more fundamental way when we come to discuss the problem of method. With the seventh condition we are asked to consider, once again, an issue previously introduced. The issue in question has to do with the notion of faith or “right belief” as an indispensable presuppo­ sition of the theological enterprise. It takes on a high degree of importance here because in the absence of faith or “right belief” there is no possibility of right knowledge, and this, in turn, calls into question the scientific nature of theology.92 Clearly, then, it cannot be doubted that “prior to any desire or ability to find theological answers is the question of dedication on the part of the theologian himself.” 93 Indeed, how could it be otherwise if theology is really the intellectus fidei? A theology that fails to find its raison d’etre in the obedient response of faith to the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ” simply cannot be a positive theology, and, as we have already had occasion to learn, a theology that is something other than positive in character has been woefully misconceived. If theology is not “science of the Credo” it is nothing at all. However, the condition just discussed, though eminently signif­ icant, is merely penultimate. It points beyond itself to a final 88 Ibid., p. 32. 89 See supra, p. 35 for a discussion of the notion that in Barth’s theology source and norm are one and the same, namely, revelation. 90 Barth, Anselm, p. 33. 91 The “authority of truth, which reason gathers.’’ Ibid. 92 Ibid., p. 34. 93 Ibid.

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condition, to a condition that is “sui generis from all the others and which conditions all these others and makes them relative.” 94 This final condition has to do with the question of prayer. The supreme importance of this particular question becomes immedi­ ately apparent when it is noted that “the ultimate and decisive capacity for the intellechis fidei does not belong to human reason acting on its own but has always to be bestowed ...” 95 That is, while rigorously disciplined and logically coherent thought is crucial, it must also be recognized that “right knowledge is con­ ditioned by the prevenient and co-operating grace of God.” 96 With­ out the donum gratiae, then, the theological enterprise simply cannot succeed. It is this donum, therefore, that should constitute the subject of the theologian’s prayer. Quite obviously, diligent praying and careful thinking are anything but mutually exclusive activities. But there is yet another dimension to the matter that must be considered. We are concerned here with the fact that even the theologian’s “right seeking,” which can only be viewed as the result of grace, would be in vain “if God did not 'show’ himself, if the encounter with him were not in fact primarily a movement from his side and if the finding that goes with it . . . did not take place.” 97 In other words, apart from God’s gracious gift of himself as the primary object of the theologian’s faithful reflection or meditation the theological enterprise is quite impossible. To recapitulate, then, the theological enterprise requires for its success both the power to think rightly about its proper object and a proper object about which to think. God, of course, is that proper object. If he did not bestow it there would simply be no power to think rightly about him, and if he did not reveal himself there would certainly be no object about which to think. That he does in fact do both of these things is a miracle of grace. Such a miracle can only be sought in prayer, and this the theologian must do. When it is found, he will have achieved true scientific objectivity in his work. 98 It is this condition of prayer that Barth identifies as the most distinctive feature of Anselm’s theologizing. This is especially true, 94 95 96 97 98

Ibid., p. 35. Ibid., p. 37. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 38-39. Ibid., p. 39.

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though, not exclusively so, of the Proslogion, which is cast “in the form of an explicit address to God.” 99 As we shall see in the next chapter, the eleventh-century saint’s famous proof of the existence of God is conducted in a prayerful attitude. This is at least one of the reasons underlying Barth’s vigorous insistence that the proof in question is theological in nature rather than philosophical. This insistence has such profoundly revolutionary interpretative signif­ icance that it will require a rather detailed consideration at another juncture.

4. In what manner does theology proceed?

Barth’s understanding of Anselm’s conception of the nature of theology is now before us. Therefore, it is time to shift our attention to the problem of theological method. In so doing we shall be introduced to that hermeneutical vantage point from which the Swiss Theologian attempts to view the Proslogion proof of the existence of God. Because the chief topic of concern in this particular section is “Anselm’s use of ‘intelligere’ ...” Barth finds it expedient to begin the discussion with a pointed reminder that, etymologically speak­ ing, the term in question derives from the words intus and legere.100 Thus, the process of intelligere is essentially one of “reading within.’’ Faith, in coming to an understanding of itself, reads and reflects upon what is said in the Credo. Quite obviously, then, this is no mere superficial reading. It is, rather, “a deepened form of legere.” 101 Just what this means is an issue requiring our careful attention. Why intus legere ? Why not simply legere ? An answer to these queries can be extrapolated from the fact that in post-Adamic man credere and the intelligere of which it is desirous (which is to be consistently distinguished from the intelligere which faith, as credere of the Credo, itself is) are in no wise identical. This means that the believer must, through diligence in prayer and persistence in thought, seek to acquire the intellectus fidei. It is not his auto99 Ibid., p. 36. Cf., Anselm Stolz’ essay “Zur Theologie Anselms im Proslogion,” Catholica. Vierteljahrschrift für Kontroverstheologie (Paderborn), II (1933), pp. 1-24. This article appears in translation in The Many-Faced Argument, edited by Hick and McGill, pp. 183-206. Stolz also emphasizes the element of prayer in the Proslogion, but he does so in order to support his notion of “the mystical Anselm.” See supra, pp. 48-49, n. 57. 100 Barth, Anselm, p. 40. 101 Ibid., p. 41.

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matically. However, this seeking is not to take place "anywhere outside of or apart from the revealed Credo of the Church and certainly not apart from or outside of Holy Scripture.” 102 But at this juncture a certain problem arises. Again we need to consider our plight as post-Adamic men. In the midst of this plight we are led to realize that there is a rather disconcerting gap between our having heard or read "the truth revealed in Scripture” in such a way that a response of faith was elicited and our having accomplished the arduous task "of understanding it as truth.” 103 It is the process of closing this gap that defines the theological enterprise. However, we have still not answered the questions with which this paragraph began. In order to do so it will be necessary to introduce an impor­ tant distinction made by Barth, but not to be found anywhere in the Anselmian corpus—a distinction, namely, between “the outward text” and "the inner text.” 104 The outward text of the Credo is that which all men with eyes to read and ears to hear, believers and unbelievers alike, may encounter. If this encounter is crowned with faith, as it is in the case of the believer, then a path is opened for the journey from the “embryonic intelligere,” which the believer shares—at least in part—with the unbeliever, to the intellectus fidei. Yet this journey cannot take place apart from a hearing or reading of the inner text which “can be found only within the outward text, but cannot simply be heard or read along with the outward text ...” 105 What is required, then, is an intus legere, a deepened form of legere. By the grace of God the man of faith is able to come to an understanding of the words of Scripture and the Creeds. That is, he finds it possible to grasp the truth of their meaning and the meaning of their truth. This occurs as he penetrates the veil of mystery shrouding the outward text and dis­ covers beneath it the inner text. Thus, for him many of the prob­ lems for our understanding posed by the outward text have been resolved. John McIntyre has charged that Barth’s crucial distinction 102 Ibid. 103 Ibid. 104 We are fortunate in having our own failure to find the distinction between “the outward text” and “the inner text” explicitly stated in Anselm’s writings confirmed by John McIntyre. See his St. Anselm and his Critics: A Re-interpretation of the “Cur Deus Homo’’ (London and Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1954), p. 28. 105 Barth, Anselm, p. 41.

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between the outward and inner texts gives rise to serious problems of its own.106 In seeking to clarify what these are he indicates that the outward text can refer either to the words of the Credo which all men apparently understand, be they believers or unbelievers, or to the redemptive significance of these words—a significance which is grasped by those who believe but do not as yet possess the intellectus fidei. McIntyre goes on to point to a similiar ambiguity plaguing Barth’s use of legere. This term is sometimes employed to describe what all men do, believers and unbelievers alike, when they peruse the written contents of the Scriptures or the Creeds. At other times it is construed to mean the believer’s reading which, while having been crowned with faith, has not as yet proceeded very far along the way to the intellectus fidei. This latter form of legere is fittingly termed by Barth “the believing legere.” 107 McIntyre is quick to acknowledge, however, that the disturbing ambiguities just described may be only apparent. This would indeed be the case if Barth’s insistence that fides is in truth an embryonic form of intelligere were seriously and consistently considered. But this is precisely what McIntyre does not do. He merely mentions the viability of this option and then turns to other matters. In our own analysis we have attempted to correct the deficiency just alluded to. Both in our account of the nature of theology’s possibility and in our presentation immediately above we have been careful to guard and explicate Barth’s interpretation of Anselm’s understanding of the twofold affinity between credere and intelligere. The issue at stake is an important one. The reader may recall that the intelligere shared by both the believer and the unbeliever has to do with the grammatical and logical coherence of the outward text itself. That is, they both understand the text to be saying something and they understand what it says. However, the unbeliever fails to move beyond this “first level” understanding to an apprehension of the reality, the underlying significance, of the words before him. Stated in a more technical manner, he is unable to acquire, in addition to the esse in intellectu, the intelligere esse in re. The situation with the believer is quite otherwise, and this fundamental difference can only be attri­ buted to the miraculous working of God’s grace. The believer’s “first level” intelligere has been crowned with faith. He now assents 106 McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, pp. 28-29. 107 Barth, Anselm, p. 42.

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to the message conveyed by the outward text. That is, in responsive obedience he confesses that it speaks the truth. But this is not to say that there are no problems remaining. There are as yet many mysteries waiting to be unveiled. Thus, the believer is driven to seek the intellectus fidei. This leads him to read the text in a completely new way. For the first time he probes the inner text within the outward one, and he can do so precisely because his is a “believing legere.” It should be quite clear at this point that the argument just outlined tends to support, in a perfectly consistent fashion, Barth's noteworthy doctrine that faith is the indispensable presupposition of the theological enterprise. Furthermore, as we shall discover in the next chapter, it also provides a basis of explanation for the astounding fact that the Fool finds it possible to deny the existence of God even though he can quite readily conceive the idea of God. What is this but the failure of a “first level” intelligere to be crowned with fides ? It would seem, then, that one can certainly choose to take issue with Barth’s distinction between the outward and the inner texts, but definitely not on the grounds that it gives rise to ambiguities and inconsistencies. If it is the case that, humanly speaking, the outward and the inner texts of Holy Scripture and the Creeds are in no wise unified, then it obviously follows that the process of intelligere cannot be advanced on the basis of a slavish recital of selected “proof-texts.” Such a recital would amount to no more than a superficial legere. It would be a mere restatement of the problem rather than a contribution to its solution. We now have a context in which to understand one of Anselm’s basic methodological principles: “. . . when it is a question of intelligere and frobare nothing can be achieved by an appeal to the authority of Holy Scripture.” 108 This does not mean that the scriptures are to be abandoned as the source and the norm of theology. However, it does mean that they are not to be introduced as “a substitute for scientific investi­ gation.” 109 Thus, when Anselm is confronted with a theological problem of perplexing dimensions he seeks its solution apart from authoritative appeals to Holy Scripture and the Creeds, at least to those passages having a direct bearing upon the central issue under discussion. He proceeds in this manner because of his conviction 108 Ibid,., pp. 42-43. 109 Ibid., p. 43.

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that “it is the very quotation that requires to be considered and understood.” 110 The famous remoto Christo principle of the Cur Deus homo is perhaps the best and clearest example of this procedure in operation. In the Preface to that work Anselm expresses his intention to conduct the argument “as if nothing were known of Christ.” It is for this reason that he must be “put out of sight.” Having done so, the task at hand is to prove, on the basis of reason alone, the necessity for Incarnation and Atonement.111 It should be evident from this briefly mentioned example that Anselm is careful not to assume as authoritatively established the issue to be dis­ cussed and proved. His appeal, then, is not to the Credo of the Church, but to reason alone. However, as we shall discover very shortly, this fact should not be interpreted so as to lend support to the charge, frequently made, that Anselm is a rationalist. Indeed, on Barth’s understanding he is precisely the opposite. This, of course, would make him a fideist. But how can it possibly be said that Anselm is a fideist rather than a rationalist if he in fact appeals to reason alone when he is engaged in theological debate ? In order to address this important question it will be necessary for us to examine Barth’s analysis of the sola ratione formula, which is, clearly enough, another of Anselm’s basic methodological principles. The argument as it has progressed to this point would seem to sug­ gest that Barth is not at all open to the possibility of a fundamental incongruity between authority and reason, at least if the latter concept is construed in the proper way. And this is precisely what he thinks occurs within the Anselmian scheme. Thus, authority is to be viewed as the necessary presupposition of reason. It is Barth’s judgement that the sola ratione formula conveys this very insight. He believes that if this were not the case Anselm would have written solitaria ratione. But then he would have been a philosopher rather than a theologian, a rationalist rather than a fideist. In as much as the eleventh-century saint was a theologian and not a philosopher, a fideist and not a rationalist, the sola ratione formula must be interpreted in a fideistic, non-rationalistic fashion. But can it be so interpreted? No doubt a discussion of just what Barth understands Anselm to mean by ratio will assist us in formulating an answer to this question. It seems that the decisive concept in question appears in the 110 Ibid. 111 Faiterweather, op. cit., pp.

ioo-ioi.

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Anselmian corpus with different though intimately related meanings. There is, as one might suspect, pointed reference to the ratio according to which human beings form concepts or judgements, decide between true and false, and choose either good or evil. It is this meaning of ratio that the eleventh-century saint has in view whenever he calls man a rationalis natura. When ratio in this sense comes under the sway of faith it can be, and in fact is, a dynamic force in the theological enterprise. However, autonomous human reason, as we have already had occasion to learn, must be left behind in order for us even to gain entrance to this particular realm of discourse. It is on this basis that Barth finds it possible to pass judgement upon any attempt to interpret Anselm’s sola ratione formula in a rationalistic, non-fideistic manner. If the man who does not believe is a rationalis natura, then the man of faith is also this, and more. In him reason is a captive of his desire for the intellectus fidei, and in so far as this is the case, his is a truly liberated reason. Here we have to do, quite clearly, with the ratio that not only does not conflict with fides and its desire for intellectus, but actually serves it by assuming an instrumental and supportive role. Stated in another way, ratio in this sense is the faculty employed by faith in its search for understanding. It is, therefore, a means to an end; the end being the intellectus which faith desires. Barth chooses to refer to this as the noetic or the knowing ratio. But if there is a noetic or knowing ratio, then there is also the ratio that is known. This, according to Barth’s technical terminol­ ogy, is the ontic ratio. Here we have to do not with the ratio that functions as a means to an end, but rather with the ratio inherent in that end. In other words, the ontic ratio "belongs to the object of faith itself.” 112 We are now faced with the task of explaining the nature of the relationship between these two forms of ratio. On more than one occasion we have pointed out that according to Barth’s interpretation of Anselm the object of faith is given in and by revelation. When this gift elicits a believing response from man, the rationalis natura, he experiences a compelling desire to under­ stand that to which he assents. Thus, he begins to search for the intellectus fidei. This is the context in which the noetic or knowing ratio plays its part. It does so by formulating concepts and making 112 Barth, Anselm, p. 44.

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judgements with regard to the object of faith. The purpose of these concepts and judgements is to provide for a rational illumination of the particular problems being considered by believing man in the various phases of his search for understanding. But this purpose can be fulfilled only if there is a correspondence between the knowing process and that which is known—that is, between the noetic ratio of the believing man and the ontic ratio of the object of faith. But how are we to account for such a correspondence? According to Barth's analysis, this kind of an account can be rendered only if we come to recognize that Anselm spoke also of an “ultimate ratio, a ratio veritatis.” 113 This ratio he took to be “iden­ tical with the ratio summae naturae ...” 114 We have to do here, quite obviously, with the ratio of God. But is is equally the ratio of the divine Word, of the Son of the Father, who is, according to trinitarian thought, “consubstantial with the Father.” 115 These Anselmian insights can be stated a bit more concisely. God is Truth. So, too, is the Word spoken by him. Thus, God’s ratio is truth “because God, Truth, has it.” 116 This means that the ratio veritatis is to be equated with the ratio Dei. However, the same thing cannot be said of the other rationes previously discussed. That is, these are not to be equated with the ratio Dei. Nevertheless, they do participate in God’s ratio, and the measure of truth they mani­ fest is dependent in every way upon this participation. The impli­ cations of the argument just outlined for an understanding of the possibility of a correspondence between the noetic ratio of the believing man and the ontic ratio of the object of faith must now engage our attention. Because the ontic ratio belongs to the object of faith which is given in and by revelation, it enjoys a certain priority over the noetic ratio. But even so, “its part in truth is fundamentally the same ...” 117 Both partake of truth only in so far as it is conferred. Yet it is also precisely at this juncture that the crucial difference between these two rationes can be specified. In the case of the ontic ratio “truth is conferred upon it with the creation of the object of which it is the ratio.” 118 The relationship of truth to the noetic ratio 113 114 115 116 117 118

Ibid.,v>. 45. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 47. Ibid.

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is somewhat different. Here we must speak of a conferring that takes place “from time to time in the event of knowing ...” 119 The distinction at issue in these two definitions must be given more sharpness of expression. We shall attempt to accomplish this through a concrete application of the insights thus far gained. Barth takes careful note of the fact that the ratio fidei with which Anselm concerns himself is “identical in the proper and strict sense with the ratio veritatis.” 120 This identity is never open to question. What is open to question, however, is the degree to which the ratio fidei will actually be recognized as the ratio veritatis. Such a question must be entertained so long as there is an absence of unity between the outward and the inner texts of Holy Scripture and the Creeds. This is all by way of saying that the ratio fidei, which is identical with the ratio veritatis, is really hidden in the Credo. It becomes known only in the event of its disclosure, and this event occurs in accordance with the gracious decision of God, who is himself the Truth. But what has all of this to do with the two forms of ratio discussed above ? The answer to this question lies close at hand. Consider, in the first place, the nature of the relationship between the ontic ratio and the ratio fidei. If the ontic ratio is the ratio belonging to the object of faith, and if the object of faith is what is understood when faith comes to an understanding of itself, then such an understanding must be equivalent to a reasoned faith, or at least to an insight into the reason of faith (ratio fidei). This means that the ontic ratio is, beyond any doubt, the bearer of the ratio veritatis. Therefore, the ontic ratio is “the hidden ratio of the object of faith.” 121 This is a status conferred upon it by God’s gracious decision. But now consider, in the second place, the nature of the relationship between the ontic ratio just discussed and the noetic ratio of the believing man. It is the hiddenness of the former that poses the problem for the latter. In striving to understand his faith the believer is driven to seek the inner text which is concealed within the outward text of Holy Scripture and the Creeds. But the inner text and the truth to which it witnesses are not at his disposal. They must be revealed to him by the grace of God. This occurs when his faith is illumined—that is, when his “believing legere” becomes 119 Ibid. 120 Ibid. 121 Ibid.,?. 48. 5

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an intus legere.122 In this gracious event of intelligere the believer’s noetic or knowing ratio conforms to the ontic ratio of the object known. In so doing it becomes a vera ratio, at least to a certain extent (aliquatenus'). This imporant qualification cannot be avoided so long as “truth is itself the master of all rationes beyond the contrast between ontic and noetic, deciding for itself, now here, now there, what is vera ratio. . . ” 123 It is under the direction of this “master,” then, that the believer’s ratio is made to conform to the ratio of the object of faith. And, as a result, he is led along the path to the intellectus fidei. It would seem to follow from what has just been said that any correspondence between the knowing process and that which is known—a correspondence upon which the theological enter­ prise is absolutely dependent—must be accounted for exclusively in terms of the gracious decision of God to bestow and disclose his truth. On the one hand, this truth is bestowed upon the ontic ratio. On the other hand, it is disclosed to man’s noetic ratio. The locus of interaction between these two forms of ratio and the events of bestowing and disclosing is, of course, the text of the Credo of the Church. These conclusions carry with them an important impli­ cation for the problem of the relationship between authority, faith, and reason. Faith is a believing response to what the sacred writings and authoritative documents of the Church have to say. Furthermore, this very faith seeks and finds an understanding of itself by reflect­ ing or meditating upon the message conveyed by these writings and documents. Such reflecting or meditating proceeds on the basis of reason alone in so far as this is made possible by the correspondence that has come about between the noetic ratio of the believer and the ontic ratio of the object in which he believes. Clearly, then, there need be no fundamental conflict of authority and faith with reason. Stated in a slightly different way, the fact that “faith is always ‘faith under authority’ ” certainly does not imply that it is “an ‘irrational’ attitude.” 124 What it does imply, at least if the total sweep of the argument to this point is given due consideration, is that

122 Ibid. 123 Ibid., p. 47. 124 Ibid., p. 48.

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The antithesis between auctoritas and ratio does not coincide with the antithesis between God and man but represents the distinction between two stages of the one divine road along which man first attains faith and then on the basis of faith (but now sola ratione) attains knowledge.125 It is quite evident, therefore, that the question previously raised concerning the possibility of giving the sola ratione formula a fideistic, non-rationalistic interpretation can be answered in the affirmative. This is in fact precisely what Barth has attempted to do. In so far as he has succeeded, Anselm has been cleared of the charge of rationalism while, at the same time, being spared from the countercharge of irrationalism. He has, in other words, been inter­ preted as the classic exponent of an understanding which provides theology with its own methodological integrity based upon an inner rationality that is compatible with its vocation as “science of the Credo.” Whether such an interpretation does violence to the elev­ enth-century saint by making him out to be a crypto-Barthian is an issue that lies beyond the boundary of our concern in this study.126 What is more directly pertinent for the progression of our discussion is the need to examine the specific manner in which Barth sees Anselm working with the sola ratione formula. It is here that we find the methodological question raised and answered in its most succinct form. If theology is indeed rational reflection upon revealed truth by the believer who is seeking to understand that which he believes, and if this implies that the attempt to theologize on the basis of reason alone presupposes what is to be demonstrated, then does not such an 125 Ibid. 126 This is the sort of charge brought against Barth's interpretative effort by M. J. Charlesworth. See his St. Anselm’s Proslogion, pp. 40-46. The issue at stake here is the one-sidedness of the Swiss Theologian’s approach to the problem of faith and reason in the thought of the eleventh-century saint—a one-sidedness to which reference was previously made. See supra, pp. 4748. n. 53. E. Gilson proffers an identical criticism in his article “Sens et nature de l’argument de saint Anselme,“ Archives d’histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Age, IX (1934). See p. 23, n. 1. Barth, however, seemed to be anticipating such an objection when he wrote: “ . . . I may be suspected of reading this or that idea into the eleventh­ century thinker, so that under the protection of his century I might advance it in the twentieth. But I have no qualms. Who can read with eyes other than his own ? With that one reservation I think I am able to say that I have advanced nothing but what I have actually read in Anselm.” {Anselm, p. 9.)

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attempt really amount to little more than a trivial exercise in circuitous thinking ? Barth’s reading of Anselm undoubtedly supports a negative response to such a query. It is this reading that we must continue to peruse. In so doing we will become acquainted with what has been aptly referred to as “Barth’s most important contribution to the analysis of the Anselmic methodology. . . ” 127 Barth argues that whenever the eleventh-century saint finds himself engaged in theological discussion he proceeds by reflecting or meditating upon a particular article of the Church’s Credo. Such a procedure allows him to focus attention on the fundamental mean­ ing of that which faith has already affirmed, but now strives to understand. Even though the problem or issue in question is a truth drawn from Holy Scripture and the Creeds it is analyzed on the basis of reason alone, apart from any appeal to sacred authority. This is not to say, however, that all the other articles of faith belonging to the Christian Credo are to be left out of account. If this were the case one would simply not be doing theology. At least some of these articles must be presupposed in order to provide a fitting context for faithful inquiry. It is within such a context that the particular article being examined is illumined and its inherent meaning thereby exposed. This occurs when its logical relationship to those articles not presently open to question is established. When success crowns this effort progress has been made along the path leading to the intellectus fidei. But there is a much more graphic way of describing this methodological procedure. Its language will introduce us to the distinctive Barthian contribution noted above. Let us think of the particular article of faith to be examined as “the unknown x” in a theological problem.128 The task, of course, is to seek and find the solution of this problem in which x is the factor in question. One proceeds by demonstrating, on the basis of sound reasoning, that certain other articles from the Credo which are known—Barth refers to these as a, b, c, d—logically entail x.129 Thus, if one accepts the articles a, b, c, d one really has no alter­ native but to accept x as well. A refusal to do so amounts to nothing less than a blatant self-contradiction. When we are speaking of theological controversy or debate, then, the method just outlined makes use of that which one’s opponent believes to prove that 127 McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 34. 128 Barth, Anselm, p. 55. 129 Ibid.

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which he does not believe.130 Because no knowledge of x has been assumed the argument can be said to have progressed on the basis of reason alone (sola ratione). But in so far as the articles a, b, c, d have served as presuppositions, it has done so within the context of faith seeking understanding (fides quaerens intellectum). Perhaps a concrete example of this procedure in operation will serve to clarify what Barth takes to be the non-rationalistic character of the sola ratione formula. We have already mentioned the Cur Deus homo with its famous remoto Christo principle as a clear instance of Anselm exercising his refusal to solve theological disputes on the basis of authoritative appeals to Holy Scripture and the Creeds. We must now view this treatise from the perspective of the methodological scheme just outlined. It is at once apparent that “the unknown x” in this particular case is the necessity of God becoming man and the impossibility of anyone being saved apart from the vicarious death of Christ. In other words, we have to do here with a Christological x.131 This is precisely what the remoto Christo principle previously discussed is intended to convey.132 But what are the a, b, c, d which provide the context for a demonstration of the rational necessity of the x in question ? Barth lists them for us with scholarly accuracy:

continuity between a divine purpose and the human race, the obligation essential to the nature of man to obey God, sin as man’s eternal guilt before God, the inviolability of God’s negation of sin, man’s inability to save himself and last but not least—the aseity and “honour” of God expressed in the Creation Dogma, which in all contexts permits, one might say “requires,” Anselm to apply the criterion of what is or is not fitting” for God.133 These, of course, are all articles derived from the Church’s Credo. When they have been carefully examined and coherently related on the basis of the rules of logic and sound rational reflection the Christo­ logical x will have been proved necessary—and this sola ratione. 130 Ibid., p. 54. 131 Ibid., p. 56. 132 There is cause for mild astonishment at the following words from the pen of Principal McIntyre: “Although he does not explicitly say so, Barth could well be taken to mean that the unknown-ness of the Christological x is intended by the phrase remoto Christo.” (St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 30) Barth does say so, and quite explicitly. He mentions the Christological x and then in a footnote points out that it is described by “that remoto Christo which we have already mentioned ...” (Anselm, p. 56 and n. 2.) 133 Barth, Anselm, pp. 55-56.

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Barth is convinced that Anselm employs this same methodological procedure in all of his theological works. This holds true even for the Monologion and the Proslogion, which are the earliest of his trea­ tises.134 Indeed, if this is not the case the eleventh-century saint must have surely achieved an important, if not revolutionary, intellectual breakthrough at some point in his illustrious career. But since there is no evidence in his writings to suggest that such a breakthrough actually occurred, it can only be assumed that if in fact it did he was either completely unaware of it, or was strangely reluctant to report it. Barth rejects these alternatives with haste. In so doing he argues for a continuity in method, moving backward from the Cur Deus homo to the Monologion. That is, having made an important discovery concerning the methodology operative in the Cur Deus homo, and finding no literary evidence of a developmental shift in Anselm’s thought, Barth draws the conclusion that the later treatise on Incarnation and Atonement constitutes the defin­ itive criterion for a reading of the earlier ones.135 John McIntyre, though profoundly impressed with much of Barth’s treatment of Anselm’s methodology, is not convinced that it can be supported in its entirety. He is critical, in the first place, of the attempt "to find the method of the later works in the earlier 134 As was suggested in a previous note {supra, n- 57-) Anselm Stolz takes serious issue with the notion of a single method being operative in all of the eleventh-century saint’s treatises. In point of fact, it is his contention that “the Proslogion has its own method”—a method that is supremely appro­ priate to it as “a piece of mystical theology.” Hick and McGill, The ManyFaced Argument, pp. 184 and 186. 135 Having established this criterion Barth sets out to find support for it within the texts of the Monologion and the Proslogion themselves. Thus, he discovers that the Monologion, especially, is clear in its rejection of the speculative approach to theology, and in its insistence that faith is really “the basis of everything.” {Anselm, p. 57.) Furthermore, these early docu­ ments evidence a decided dependence upon the methodological pattern of seeking to resolve a problem x by reasoning from a set of presupposed articles a, b, c, d. In the Monologion “the unknown x” is the nature of God, while in the Proslogion it is the existence of God. {Ibid., pp. 57-59.) We merely note the fact that Barth argues in this way. A detailed dis­ cussion of his right to do so would lead us into the deep waters of Anselmian scholarship. While this is certainly a temptation, it must be resisted. In the final analysis our central concern in this study is not with the problem as to whether Barth and Hartshorne have either correctly or incorrectly inter­ preted Anselm. Indeed, the fundamental issue before us has to do with the direction their respective interpretations have led them in their thinking about the God-man-world relationship and the implications of this for the future course of the theological enterprise.

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ones ...” 136 The problem at issue here, McIntyre judges, has to do with the fundamental difference in character between the writings of these two periods. The treatises from the pen of the "later” Anselm have a definite dogmatic style. They proceed in a manner very similar to the one described by Barth. However, the documents produced by the "early” Anselm are somewhat different. They seem to “take account of the positions of unbelievers in the more extreme sense of the term ...” 137 The most striking example of this characteristic is the concern shown in the Proslogion for the Fool who denies "the entirety of the Christian faith.” 138 Thus, it may be said that these early works display "at least a prima facie apologetic purpose.” 139 But if this is actually the case, what happens to the Barthian argument for a strict methodological continuity throughout the Anselmian corpus ? Nothing, as far as McIntyre is concerned. He agrees, in principle, with this important argument.140 However, he does not agree with the attempt to establish such a methodological continuity on the basis of an assumption that "the later works are the key to the earlier ...” 141 Indeed, it could be precisely the other way around. What is required, then, is still another look at the problem. McIntyre’s thesis is that "the earlier works form the systematic foundation for the later.” 142 That is, what has been proved or established as true in one treatise is assumed as a basis for discussion in a subsequent one. In as much as Anselm’s writings display a very definite progression, it is safe "to say that the a, b, c, d are the conclusions reached in the earlier works.”143 This means, of course, that the later works will inevitably build upon a credal foundation. But what about the early ones ? McIntyre contends that they cannot be understood to 136 McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 35. 137 Ibid., pp. 34-35. 138 Ibid., p. 35. 139 Ibid. 140 In an essay entitled “Premises and Conclusions in the System of St. Anselm’s Theology,” McIntyre writes: “St. Anselm employs a uniform method throughout his works . . . This systematic procedure, which I shall call ‘the Anselmic method in theology,’ remains the same, no matter the sub­ ject with which he happens to be dealing at any one given moment. It is to be found in the Monologion as clearly as in the Cur Deus homo, in the De Processione Spiritus Sancti as in the Epistola de Incarnatione.” Spicilegium Beccense, p. 95. 141 McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 36. 142 Ibid., p. 35. 143 Ibid.

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proceed in this way because they are produced in a milieu in which practically everything Christian is open to question. Thus, in the Monologion the technique employed is that of making the whole argument turn "on the Platonic Doctrine of the Forms ..." and “the empirical generalisation that all men seek after that which they think to be good,” 144 while in the Proslogion the formula “that than which no greater can be conceived”—a formula that is not at all peculiar to the Church’s Credo—is held up as the measure of a proper definition of God. The implications of this argument are that the premises employed by Anselm in his writings “are not always entirely Scriptural,” and that his choice of these premises “is deter­ mined not by himself but by the views held by his opponents. ’ ’ 145 At this juncture McIntyre finds himself compelled to raise still another objection to Barth’s treatment of the Anselmian method­ ology. He views this objection as the decisive one in as much as it points out “a weakness which amounts to self-contradition.” 146 The problem at issue here has to do with what McIntyre takes to be Barth’s blatant violation of Anselm’s principle—a principle em­ phatically recognized and affirmed in the study of 1931—not to “argue from the authoritative given-ness of Scriptural or credal sentences to certain dogmatic conclusions.” 147 It is McIntyre’s contention that while Barth has quite successfully shown that Anselm “does not accept as authoritatively given, but as to be proved, the relation between the premises a, b, c, d and the unknown x,” he has definitely failed to make it clear that the eleventh­ century saint “does not accept a, b, c, d as authoritatively given.”148 In fact, he even seems to suggest that the premises a, b, c, d are, in every case, truths of revelation, which would imply, of course, their “authoritative given-ness.” Barth simply must not be allowed to have it both ways. While there is, no doubt, a measure of textual support for McIntyre’s objection to the Swiss Theologian’s attempt to find the method of Anselm’s later works operative in his earlier ones, we find ourselves somewhat perplexed by the critical point just dis­ cussed. Barth is perfectly open about the fact that the premises 144 145 146 147 148

Ibid,., p. 36. Ibid., p. 38. Ibid., p. 37. Ibid. Ibid.

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a, b, c, d are always to be understood as articles drawn from the Church’s Credo. Furthermore, he obviously does not view this as a contradiction of Anselm’s principle. Indeed, both aspects of this problem are discussed in the same context without the slightest hint of embarrassment. It seems to us that it is this context which McIntyre ignores, thereby missing a most important dimension of the Barthian analysis. We are referring, of course, to the context set by the detailed treatment of the sola ratione formula. Within such a context Barth can have it both ways, and does. Moreover, he can and does do so without running the risk of self-contradiction. This is the case because all he claims for the theological enterprise is the task of proving the logical necessity of x given the articles a, b, c, d. This is, in fact, what dogmatics is all about. It would seem, then, that McIntyre really wants Barth to do something he has explicitly and consistently refused to do—namely, to proceed solitaria ratione. It must be concluded, therefore, that McIntyre’s critique of this particular aspect of Barth’s interpretation of Anselm is not of serious consequence. To become so it would need to demonstrate that the Swiss Theologian has misunderstood and misrepresented the sola ratione formula as it functions in the Anselmian corpus. McIntyre, however, does not even mention this formula and Barth’s treatment of it. How, then, can he justly level the charge of self-contradiction ? Barth’s understanding of the eleventh-century saint’s methodol­ ogy carries with it important implications for an interpretation of the proof of God’s existence set forth in Proslogion 2-4, and for an assessment of the legitimacy of natural theology. Since these topics are to be given rather extensive treatment in subsequent chapters of this study, we will speak of them only briefly in this present context. Our aim here is merely to specify the implications just alluded to. If it is true that the argument of the Proslogion proceeds in accordance with the methodological program outlined above, then it is perfectly obvious that the proof of God’s existence set forth in chapters 2-4 of that work must be theological in nature rather than philosophical. Quite specifically, this means that it rests upon the solid rock of revealed truth and not upon the sinking sand of ration­ alistic speculation. It would seem, then, that those numerous and sometimes illustrious commentators who have failed to under­ stand the Proof have nothing to blame but their inability to view it

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within the total context of Anselm's theological scheme. In chapter three of this study we shall have occasion to observe what results when this particular inability is overcome. But what about natural theology? Is it possible to conceive of this as a legitimate enterprise from the point of view set forth in the Barthian interpretation of Anselm’s methodology? Barth thinks that it is not. Referring to the eleventh-century saint some years after the treatise of 1931 had been published, the Basel Professor declares: “He is not the right man to appeal to as the patron saint of natural theology.’’ 149 But why is this the case? Natural theology, on Barth’s understanding, assumes “an independent knowledge alongside that of faith.” 150 That is, it attempts “to draw from its own sources.” 151 These sources, it seems, are the canons of “an autonomous human reason” and “the data of general human experience.” 152 On the basis of these sources nothing can be created but “a kind of shadow Credo.” 153 Genuine theology simply cannot be done in this way. Indeed, as we have already had occasion to learn, such a theology must both begin and end in faith. And it is nothing other than faith’s understanding of itself that stands between. Natural theology, then, is in no better position than philosophy with its method of rationalistic speculation when it comes to reflecting on the God-man-world relationship. Having completed our unavoidably lengthy inquiry into the specific manner in which theology proceeds we must turn now to a discussion of its particular aim. Following this section we will proffer a concluding assessment of the role of the Anselm book in the development of Barth’s theological positivism. 5. What is the aim of theology?

Near the beginning of this chapter we took note of Barth’s concern to achieve a clear understanding of the term “proof” (probare, probatio} as it functions in the Anselmian corpus. We learned that when the eleventh-century saint speaks of “proofs” he is referring to “a particular result, namely, the polemicalapologetical result of his theological work.” 154 It now becomes 149 150 151 152 153 154

C. D., II/i, 93. Barth, Anselm, p. 53. Ibid. Ibid., p. 54. Ibid. Ibid., p. 59.

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evident that the aim of theology is precisely this "proof” of which we spoke previously. But this is an assertion that must be carefully explored and developed. To misunderstand what is meant here is to misunderstand the whole theological enterprise as Anselm con­ ceived it. At least this is how Barth views the matter. At the very outset we need to be clear about the fact that what­ ever is said concerning "proofs” must in no wise contradict even so much as one minor point made when the problem of the nature and method of theology was being discussed.155 Indeed, how can it be otherwise if “proof” is really the aim of theology ? Thus, the primary observation to be made with regard to "proofs” is that “the ratio veritatis inherent in the Articles of the Christian Credo is itself at no point the subject of discussion but on the contrary it forms the selfevident basis of discussion.” 156 In other words, the truth of the objective or ontic rationality hidden within Holy Scripture and the Creeds is not open to question. Rather, it is the fundamental presupposition of all faithful questioning. Clearly, then, when it comes to “proofs” this rule must obtain: it is on the firm founda­ tion of an acceptance of the truth of revelation that everything rests. One can and should raise questions about a particular problem x, but only within a context in which the articles a, b, c, d are assented to in and by faith. The most significant implication of this primary observation is that Anselm cannot be understood as having a stake in the apolo­ getic enterprise as it is currently conceived. Indeed, this follows with inexorable logic from the fact that the “proofs” we are dis­ cussing can be executed only from the vantage point of faith’s affirmation of the truth of the Christian Credo. But if not to those outside the Church’s sphere of influence, then to whom are Anselm’s writings addressed ? First and foremost to “the Benedictine theolo­ gians of his day.” 157 They are witnesses to a discussion being carried on between one of their own ilk and unbelief, the purpose of which is “to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you ...” (I Peter 3:15, KJV) That discussion, however, is not allowed to take place on unbelief’s ground. Rather, it proceeds as an exercise in faith seeking understanding. This highly unusual state of affairs requires a word of explanation. 155 Ibid., p. 62. 156 Ibid., p. 60. 157 Ibid.,y. 63.

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At an early stage in the Cur Deus homo we encounter an interest­ ing though astonishing assertion from the lips of Boso, the inter­ locutor. Referring to the unbelievers whose point of view he will strive in all seriousness to represent throughout the ensuing dis­ cussion, he remarks: “It is true that they seek the reason [of faith] because they do not believe, while we seek it because we believe; nevertheless, it is one and the same thing that we seek.” 158 Barth interprets this to mean that while the unbelievers “do take offense at some constituent part of the revelation because the context, the totality of the revelation is unknown to them and therefore this or that constituent part (not being illumined by the whole) is beyond their comprehension,’’ it is definitely not the case that “the revela­ tion itself . . . offends them.’’ 159 If it did they would not be merely unbelievers; they would be insipientes. The believer is powerless to help the insipiens because they have nothing in common. Thus, they must simply go their separate ways.160 But the believer can be of some assistance to the unbeliever in so far as they share the same “rock of offence’’—a “rock of offence’’ which compels the former to seek an understanding of his faith while blocking the latter from even an initial affirmation of it. In striving to answer his own questions, then, the theologian is also rendering a valuable service to those who do not as yet believe. If they follow him along the path which leads from credere to intelligere it may be that they too will come to respond in faith to the “Word of Christ” which is to be heard in the “Word of those who preach Christ.” 161 158 Fairweather, op. cit., p. 104. 159 Barth, Anselm, p. 66. 160 Andre Hayen is in essential agreement with Barth’s rejection of the apologetic motif in Anselm’s writings. However, he does not subscribe to the Swiss Theologian’s understanding of the eleventh-century saint’s attitude towards the Fool. In the second part of a lengthy essay appearing in Spicilegium Beccense Hayen addresses the problem of “Le role de 1’insipiens chez saint Anselme et le caractere nücessairement apostolique de la vraie reflexion Chrötienne.” Here he argues that because Anselm was possessed by a genuine apostolic love for his fellows he was persuaded that his own search for the intellectus fidei would not be true or complete as long as it excluded anyone, even the Fool. ("Saint Anselme et Saint Thomas: la vraie nature de la thdologie et sa port6e apostolique,’’ p. 72.) Thus, when reasoning on matters of faith the eleventh-century saint is concerned to engage the mind of all men, including those who do not happen to stand within the circle of faith. (The second part of Hayen’s essay appears in translation in The Many Faced Argument, edited by Hick and McGill, pp. 162-182.) 181 Further along in the discussion Barth proffers a conjecture which tends

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From this perspective, quite obviously, theology—Barth prefers the term “dogmatics”—stands poles apart from apologetics, if we mean by that the attempt to engage unbelief in dialogue on its own terms and outside of the context of faith seeking understanding.162 Talk of apologetics is admissible only if the unbeliever’s quest is treated as in every way “identical with the quest of the believer himself.” 163 But this means that we are not really speaking about apologetics at all; we are, rather, speaking about theology with its aim of “proving.” And it is a decidedly “bad theology” which finds it necessary “to give precedence to special proofs over its own distinctive arguments.” 164 In other words, only those “proofs” which have been convincing to him as a man of faith seeking understanding should be offered to the world by the Christian theologian.165 to illumine the point just made. He writes: “Perhaps for Anselm theology has as much a part in proclaiming Christ as preaching ...” Anselm, p. 71. 162 Alexandre Koyr6 tends to provide support for the Barthian claim that Anselm has no interest in the apologetic enterprise, at least as it is presently understood. Commenting on the argument in Proslogion 2, he writes: “Cet argument n’a certainement jamais persuade un incroyant, n’a jamais oper£ une conversion, n’a jamais amene personne ä croire en Dieu: mais ce n’dtait pas son but. On fait une injustice au grand theologien en examinant son argument sous ce point de vue qui lui est stranger.” L’Idee de Dieu dans la philosophic de St. Anselme (Paris: Editions Ernest Leroux, 1923), p. 205. 163 Barth, Anselm, p. 67. 164 Ibid., p. 68. 165 The question of apologetics is one that has been hotly debated in contemporary theology. As traditionally employed, the term under discussion refers to a theologian’s reasoned defense of the Church’s Credo against the objections of its opponents. In such a defense the concern is to establish the unquestioned validity of specific beliefs and practices of those who hold to the Christian faith. The aim in view is usually that of winning converts. It is Karl Barth who has most forcefully renounced this enterprise within our own century. He has done so on the grounds that any such defensive endeavor implies that humanly conceived criteria can be made the measure of God in his revelation. Furthermore, it tends to place an undue emphasis upon man’s side of the God-man relationship, with the result that theology is turned into anthropology. The truth of the matter is, the Christian faith needs no defense. It requires only explication, and this is a dogmatic task rather than an apologetic one. From this point of view, discussion with the world proceeds from within the context of faith seeking understanding and on the basis of faith’s own presuppositions. There is to be no recognition of, or concession to, alien criteria. (Cf., C. D., I/i, 2gff.) Barth’s most illustrious opponents in the debate concerning apologetics have been Emil Brunner and Paul Tillich. See the former’s The Christian Doctrine of God, Dogmatics: Vol. I, trans, by Olive Wyon (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950), pp. g8ff., and the latter’s Systematic Theology, Vol. I (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951), pp. ßff.

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When it is a question of “proving," then, Barth sees Anselm striving “to make the Faith comprehensible to everyone ..." 166 However, in so doing he proceeds “in strict theological neutral­ ity." 167 That is, he conducts his investigation “as if there were no rejection of the revelation and of dogma." 168 There is simply no other alternative for him given his understanding of “the rectus ordo of the relation between faith and knowledge by virtue of which faith is obedience to authority which must be prior to knowl­ edge." 169 But why “proof"? Because that is theology’s vocation. John McIntyre is highly critical of Barth’s attempt to call Anselm as his witness against those who would find a place for apologetics in the theological enterprise. This critique hinges on an identification of what McIntyre terms the double nature of the intellectus fidei. First of all, the intellectus fidei serves to demon­ strate to the believer that the articles of the Credo, all of which he has already affirmed, are logically related to one another. Thus, for him the x in the inquiry is not really the “unknown"; what is unknown is the relation of x to the articles a, b, c, d. However, secondly, it functions as a “proof" for the unbeliever. In this instance the x, which is neither known nor accepted, is shown to be logically entailed by the articles a, b, c, d, which are known and accepted. In other words, we have to do here with both an “expli­ cation of a structure implicit in fides,” and a “demonstration of the logical necessity of x." 170 Having made this interesting and important distinction, which we readily agree seems to be at least implicit in the Barthian analysis, McIntyre goes on to argue that in Anselm’s writings “it is the probare (to convince the person who disbelieves x) which deter­ mines the form which the intelligere (for the benefit of the believer) takes, and not vice versa.” 171 That is, at every point it is the unbeliever’s questions and doubts which lead to the selection of the particular x to be related to the articles a, b, c, d. This means that the eleventh-century saint did, in fact, manifest a high degree of concern for the unbeliever, and that this concern always tends to shape the course of his theological investigations. But if this is so, 166 167 168 169 170 171

Barth, Anselm, p. 6g. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 64. McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 34. Ibid., p. 33.

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then how can it be maintained that Anselm has no interest in apologetics ? We are faced here with two quite different though related issues. One has to do with the implications of the so-called double nature of the intellectus fidei for an assessment of the legitimacy of the apologetic enterprise. The other pertains to the question as to whether the priority lies with belief or unbelief in the selection of those problems to be discussed when theology is being written. Turning briefly to the latter issue we must observe that it is certainly the case that Anselm is usually led into a theological discussion by his concern to deal with the unbeliever's questions and doubts, and that these questions and doubts tend to shape the course of the ensuing investigation. But this fact alone is not a clear refutation of Barth’s claim that the eleventh-century saint is his predecessor in the rejection of the apologetic enterprise. Indeed, it is no refutation at all. Barth never asserts that Anselm is reluctant to take account of unbelievers. What he does assert, however, is that in dealing with them the eleventh-century saint refuses to assume a stance other than that of faith seeking understanding. According to Barth’s interpretation of the matter this means that Anselm always operates as a dogmatician and never as a philosopher of religion or the like.172 But is not such an interpretative stance rendered problematic by the double nature of the intellectus fidei noted above ? This is the question that must now engage our attention. McIntyre subjects the issue before us to a high degree of confusion when he speaks of an “explication of a structure implicit in fides” and “a demonstration of the logical necessity of x.” 173 This is the case because in so doing he tears the double nature of the intellectus fidei asunder. In such a condition it is simply unable to support the burden Barth places upon it. Thus, the entire enterprise col­ lapses before our eyes. Quite obviously, then, we need to investigate the subtleties of this critical move. McIntyre argues that to think of the intellectus as “logical expli­ cation’’ commits one to the view that there is an “implicit” logical structure “in the initial act or attitude of faith,” and that such a 172 At one point in his study of 1931 Barth comments: “It would have been quite impossible for Anselm to write a Summa theologica as well as a Summa contra Gentiles: a volume of Dogmatics as well as a Philosophy of Religion or the like.” Anselm, p. 67, n. 2. 173 McIntyre, St. Anselm and his Critics, p. 34.

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structure actually “constitutes the ground of that initial act or attitude of faith.” 174 This suggests that the intellectus fidei is really “the bringing into the conscious field of something which, unknown to the believer, was already present and operative in his mind.” 175 But if this is true, then what are we to say concerning the intellectus as “demonstrative proof” ? There are no attractive options here. We must simply assert that unbelievers “implicitly believe that they explicitly disbelieve.” 176 In other words, “prov­ ing” brings the unbeliever to a conscious awareness of that which he implicitly believed even while he explicitly disbelieved. However, when we speak this way we are merely “playing with words.” 177 McIntyre seems to think that this is where Barth’s interpretation places him. The only way he can avoid such a stance is to affirm openly “that in the intellectus the frobare (for the benefit of the un­ believer) is the sole motive.” 178 But to do so would be to renounce the double nature of the intellectus fidei, while advocating the legit­ imacy of the apologetic enterprise. This is unquestionably a devastating critique. However, it derives from a conspicuous failure to take Barth’s intricate analysis of what Anselm means by ratio with any degree of seriousness. As a matter of fact, throughout the whole of his otherwise commendable discussion McIntyre never even alludes to this important series of insights. It is our contention that such an unfortunate omission tends to lead him into confusion with regard to the methodological significance of the double nature of the intellectus fidei. Consider, in the first place, the very pertinent observation that Barth does not understand the believer’s faith to be the locus of the logical structure which is explicated when the intellectus fidei is achieved. Indeed, that locus is the Credo of the Church to which the believer has obediently responded by assenting to it in faith. Here is where the truth of the objective or ontic ratio lies hidden. It is graciously disclosed to the believer’s subjective or noetic ratio only when there is an intus legere—a faithful reading of the inner text which is to be found within the outward one. This first observation leads us, by implication, to proffer a second one. If the locus of the logical structure that is explicated 174 175 176 177 178

Ibid., p. 24. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 34.

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when the intellectus fidei is achieved is actually the Credo of the Church, then it is this same Credo which calls faith into being when, by the grace of God, it is truly proclaimed and genuinely heard. In other words, the ground of the “initial act or attitude of faith’’ is not its own “implicit” logical structure, but “the authority of Scripture, the testimony of the Fathers, . . . [and] supremely . . . the God Who has mediated Himself . . . through both.” 179 It is of great interest to note that this is precisely what McIntyre thinks Anselm would tend to say. Could it be that Barth has not totally misunderstood or misrepresented his mentor after all ? Our third observation follows from the previous two. We are concerned at this juncture with the nature of the intellectus fidei. McIntyre has charged that Barth is committed to an interpretation of this process that must emphasize the bringing to consciousness of that which was “unknown to the believer” even though it “was already present and operative in his mind.” 180 But is this really an accurate account of the situation ? If the intellectus fidei can be achieved only when there is a gracious correspondence between the objective, ontic ratio of that which is known and the subjective, noetic ratio of the knower, and if such a correspondence occurs under the direction of truth which is “the master of all rationes beyond the contrast between ontic and noetic,” 181 then we must respond to this question with a negative answer. When the believer comes to an understanding of his faith it is actually the logical structure of the Church’s Credo which has been disclosed and not the content of his own mind. To be sure, it is the believer’s noetic ratio that knows, but it is the ontic ratio of Holy Scripture and the Creeds that is known. Only when there is a correspondence between these two rationes is it possible and permissible to speak of a vera ratio. In tendering yet a fourth observation we find ourselves con­ fronted with the problems of the unbeliever and the “demonstrative proof.” Is it the case that Barth has been trapped between the horns of this unseemly dilemma: either to admit the absurdity that the unbeliever implicitly believes what he explicitly disbelieves, or to confess that an apologetic concern is the sole motive of the demonstrative proof ? We think not. It has already been noted that 179 Ibid., p. 24. 180 Ibid., pp. 24 and 34. 181 Barth, Anselm, p. 47. 6

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“proof” is the polemical-apologetical result of theological investi­ gation. That is, when the intellectus fidei is achieved it issues in “proof.” Both the believer and the unbeliever benefit from such an achievement, but in different ways. The benefit bestowed upon the believer is the removal of an obstacle for his understanding, while the benefit enjoyed by the unbeliever is the crushing of a “rock of offence” that seemed to be blocking his response of faith. It is important to understand, however, that the unbeliever comes to share in this enterprise only because he happens to be seeking the same thing as the believer—namely, the reason of faith (ratio fidei). There is no possibility of the circumspect theologian stepping outside of the context of faith in his effort to achieve “proof.” The discussion can never be held on the unbeliever’s ground. Indeed, the theologian summons the unbeliever on to his own ground—the ground of faith seeking understanding (fides quaerens intellectum). Quite clearly, then, we are confronted here with a desire to explicate the Christian faith, rather than with a concern to defend it. But this desire to explicate must not be thought of as having been motivated by the notion that “proof” will result in belief. One simply cannot be argued into the Kingdom of God. It may be, however, that during the course of the discussion, or following it, the unbeliever will respond in faith because he has been enlightened by the objec­ tive or ontic ratio of the object of faith which is itself “enlightened from above by the summa veritas ...” 182 If this occurs it is God who must be praised and not the theologian or the believer. It should be evident from what has just been said that the dilemma mentioned above has no hold on Barth and his understanding of Anselm. Because the unbeliever is to be dealt with exclusively from the perspective of faith seeking understanding there is neither a basis for charging that he implicitly believes what he explicitly disbelieves, nor a criterion for establishing the predominance of an apologetic concern. We have now come full circle in our analysis of Barth’s under­ standing of Anselm’s view of the nature and method of theology. We began this segment of our discussion with a brief preliminary definition of the term “proof,” and we have concluded it with an extended treatment of the same term. This is by no means a fortuitous circumstance. The highly original interpretation of 182 Ibid., p. 71.

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Proslogion 2-4 to be discussed in the chapter to follow is rooted in the technical proposals outlined above. That is, Barth presents Anselm’s famous proof of God’s existence as a notable example of his general concern with “proving”—a concern defined by his understanding of what theology is and how it proceeds. This means, as we have already noted on numerous occasions, that the proof in question is strictly theological in nature. To conceive of it other­ wise is to fail to apprehend its true import. It is this “true import” that we must now seek out. Before doing so, however, a brief assessment of the contribution of the Anselm book to Barth’s evolving theological program must be advanced. D. Conclusion

In light of the criteria derived from our discussion of the basic methodological refinements distinguishing the Swiss Theologian’s third phase from the one preceding it, the pivotal position of the study of 1931 is not at all difficult to apprehend.183184 On every point there is complete correspondence and agreement. That dogmatics is totally dependent on a faithful acknowledgement of God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ and the witness to this event con­ tained in Holy Scripture and the Church’s proclamation is an issue made abundantly clear by Barth when he advances what he considers to be Anselm’s understanding of the nature and method of theology. Furthermore, in this same context it is suggested that the eleventh-century saint systematically refused to accept any “material instruction” from some kind of philosophical or anthro­ pological commitment. And, as we have already observed, not only did this lead to a lack of concern for apologetics but also to a vigorous and thoroughgoing rejection of natural theology. Finally, it is evident that the argument of the Anselm book strongly supports the methodological move from reality to possibility. Indeed, the paradigmatic instance of such a move is set forth in the notion that the theologian is one whose task it is to translate an assent to the “that it is,” to the quod sit, of an article of belief into an awareness of its particular “how it might be,” its quomodo sit.18i It would seem, therefore, that the important treatise we have been discussing does serve as the programmatic document marking the transition from 183 See supra, p. 43. 184 See supra, pp. 51-52.

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Die Christliche Dogmatik of 1927 to the first part of the first volume of Die Kirchliche Dogmatik which appeared in 1932. With the Fides quaerens intellectum book Barth succeeded in articulating a monumental scheme for the development of a con­ sistent theological positivism. Anthropologically orientated contri­ butions to the dogmatic enterprise no longer had a hold on him. Cartesianism in theology was now a defeated opponent. Henceforth the Denkform of his technical proposals would be “the objectivity of revelation.” 185 We are not, of course, suggesting that the treatise of 1931 marked a shift in the fundamental direction of Barth’s thinking. Quite clearly, that direction was already being charted during the first phase of his development. However, the encounter with Anselm did serve to make it possible for theology to be something more than dialectical without having to shoulder the burden of the Kantian heritage once again.186 This possibility is grounded in an evolving 186 Cf., Manfred Josuttis, Die Gegenständlichkeit der Offenbarung. Karl Barths Anselm-Buch und die Denkform seiner Theologie (Bonn: H. Bouvier u. Co., Verlag, 1965). Without seeking to adjudicate the rather difficult ques­ tions as to whether the Swiss Theologian either correctly or incorrectly interpreted the eleventh-century saint, or whether the basic rudiments of his position in the treatise of 1931 are evident in any of his earlier writings, Josuttis argues that the decision with regard to the fundamental form of Barth’s thought in the Church Dogmatics took shape with the drafting of the Fides quaerens intellectum book. This is the burden of his contribution. We have sought to distinguish our work from that of Josuttis’ by following a somewhat different course of concern. First of all, our analysis of the Barthian preoccupation with the Anselmic literature is not to be limited to the problem of the nature and method of theology. Indeed, this is only preliminary to a discussion of his detailed exegesis of the eleventh-century saint’s so-called ontological argument. In point of fact, the central question we are seeking to answer in the first four chapters of this study has to do with the role of that argument in the development of Barth’s theology. Furthermore, we have attempted to relate the proposals of the Anselm book to the major phases of the Swiss Theologian’s career. That is, we have directed its insights both retrospectively and prospectively in an effort to clarify the Barthian opposition to the anthropological point of departure for the theological enterprise. 186 Throughout the dialectical phase of his development Barth’s theolo­ gical pronouncements tended to be primarily critical and negative in charac­ ter. The move from dialectical to dogmatic thinking, then, may be viewed as an attempt to redress this imbalance. Now the emphasis is placed on constructive and positive speech. It is this emphasis that predominates in Die Christliche Dogmatik. But it seems to do so through an appeal to the language of existentialist philosophy. Could it be that its author had finally returned to the ranks of the Neo-Protestants ? That such a question could arise at all was sufficient cause for alarm. The problem facing Barth, there­

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insight into the proper relationship between faith and its object. While expounding the notion of the ratio fidei in the Anselmic literature the Swiss Theologian felicitiously recognized that it is not faith which renders its object true, but rather it is the truth of its object which allows faith to be true. The priority, then, belongs to faith’s object and not to faith itself. Thus, when there is a “corre­ spondence of the thing known with the knowing, of the object with the thought, of the Word of God with the word of man in thought and in speech” it must be attributed to divine grace and gratefully appriopriated in faith.187 In so far as this occurs one can speak of God in a positive manner without doing so from an anthropological starting-point. We have to do here with Barth’s doctrine of the analogia fidei188189 190 or the analogia gratiaef88 which he opposes to Roman Catholicism’s analogia entis180 Its distinctive feature lies in fore, was how to proceed with the constructive, positive task of dogmatics without being taken captive by an alien philosophy—without falling heir to the burden of the Kantian heritage. This problem was solved in a definitive manner with the writing of the Anselm book. 187 C. D., I/i, 279. 188 Ibid. 189 C. D., II/i, 243. 190 Barth’s opposition to the analogia entis doctrine was motivated by his desire to discredit natural theology in whatever form it happened to appear. He found it possible to do this without having to avoid the use of analogical language in his own dogmatic scheme. Indeed, if the correspondence between God and our speaking and thinking about him is necessarily established by divine grace and appropriated in faith, then one can most certainly employ a doctrine of analogy and still not be involved in the vain attempt to reason from the finite to the infinite. Thus, in the first two volumes of the Church Dogmatics the analogia entis is vigorously assaulted from the point of view of the analogia fidei or the analogia gratiae. In the first part of the third volume of that monumental work Barth continues his critique of the analogia entis by introducing another form of the doctrine of analogy, namely, the analogia relationis—a form which he discovered in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Schöpfung und Fall. (See C. D., III/i, 194-195.) As the Swiss Theologian develops it, the analogia relationis serves to describe “the similarity in spite of all dissimilarity of the relationship between God and man and between man and his fellow-men to the relationship between the Father and the Son within the innertrinitarian life of God” (Hartwell, The Theology of Karl Barth, p. 56). Some years later Hans Urs von Balthasar, in his brilliant study Karl Barth, Darstellung und Deutung seiner Theologie, persuaded the Swiss Theologian that a more careful reading of St. Thomas on "the analogy of proportionality” would have disclosed to him the fact that the great Catholic Father actually meant the analogia entis doctrine to be understood in terms of something very much like an analogia relationis. Therefore, after the appear­ ance of Volume HI, part 3 of the Church Dogmatics Barth ceased to oppose the Thomistic formulation of the analogia entis doctrine. For a particularly helpful treatment of the problem we have been discus-

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the fact that it works downwards from God to man rather than upwards from man to God. Without a doubt, therefore, the basis for theology is, and must be, faith’s object-—the object which faith seeks to understand. To be sure, these are themes which were being sounded in the dogmatic effort of 1927.191 But it was only with the writing of the Anselm book that they came to consistent expression. The way was now clear for a movement into the Church Dogmatics. Having discussed the nature and method of theology in the treatise of 1931, and having proffered an assessment of its distinc­ tive contribution to Barth’s developing thought, we are in a position to focus our attention upon his theological interpretation of Pros­ logion 2-4. In so doing we shall be striving to determine the precise role of the ontological argument for God’s existence in the Swiss Theologian’s mature dogmatic proposals. sing see Jung Young Lee’s essay “Karl Barth’s Use of Analogy in His Church Dogmatics,’’ Scottish Journal of Theology, Vol. 22, No. 2, June 1969, pp. 129-151. G. C. Berkouwer is also worth consulting in this regard. See his The Triumph of Grace in the Theology of Karl Barth (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1956), pp. 179-194. Further, in Antwort Walter Kreck addresses the question “Analogia Fidei oder Analogia Entis ?” (see pp. 272-286). Finally, we must mention Arnold B. Gome’s handling of “The Method of Analogy” in An Introduction to Barth’s "Dogmatics” for Preachers (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963), pp. 142-149. 191 Cf., Die Christliche Dogmatik, pp. 372t. Here the analogia fidei is given a brief hearing.

CHAPTER THREE

A THEOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION OF PROSLOGION 2-4

A. Introduction

Karl Barth considers the Proslogion to be a highly unified theolog­ ical treatise on the themes of the existence and nature of God. He thinks that Anselm himself makes this perfectly evident when he prays: "... grant me that I may understand, as much as You see fit, that You exist as we believe You to exist, and that You are what we believe You to be.” 1 It is in chapters 2-4 that the first theme is treated, while chapters 5-26 are devoted to the second one.2 Preceding both of these sections is a “Prooemium” in which the eleventh-century saint describes how he sought and found . .. one single argument that for its proof required no other save itself, and that by itself would suffice to prove that God really exists, that He is the supreme good needing no other and is He whom all things have need of for their being and well-being, and also to prove whatever we believe about the Divine Being,3 1 Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 117. Cf., St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 101. 2 This division of the treatise into two major sections, treating respectively the existence and nature of God, is the one most widely accepted by scholars in the field. Father Anselm Stolz, however, emphatically rejects such a division on the grounds that it is based upon a fundamental misunderstanding of the eleventh-century saint’s real intention. As we have already observed, this Benedictine theologian is committed to the view that the Proslogion is manifestly mystical in nature {supra, pp. 48-49, n. 57). From his perspective, therefore, its author’s primary concern is that of addressing God rather than arguing about him. When this pivotal issue is granted it is not at all difficult to recognize that chapter 14 is the most natural place to divide the document under discussion. Here the movement from prayer to rational inquiry set forth in chapters 1-13 is reviewed and pronounced a failure. But now the very same movement is initiated once again. This time it is crowned with success as the eleventh-century saint finally achieves the experience of God which was his original aim. Thus, it is Stolz’ judgement that the Proslogion is most properly viewed as being composed of two almost equally long sections: chapters 1-13 and chapters 14-26. See Hick and McGill, The ManyFaced Argument, pp. 191-198and p. 67. Cf., H. deLubac’sessay “Sur leChapitre XIV du Proslogion” in Spicilegium Beccense, pp. 299-302. 3 Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 103. Cf., St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 93.

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and the magnificently expressed invocation of chapter I which serves to rouse “the mind to the contemplation of God.” 4 It is Barth’s contention that the “one single argument” men­ tioned above is not to be identified exclusively with the proof of chapters 2-4. Rather, it must be viewed as the “one technical element which Anselm has made use of in both parts of the book.” 56 That is, the unum argumentum in question functions as a means of establishing God’s existence on the one hand, and of describing his nature on the other hand. But what, precisely, is this unum argumentuml It is, quite obviously, the formula “something than which nothing greater can be thought” [aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit) P Even though the formula in view has an important part to play in both major sections of the treatise presently concerning us, it is Barth’s intention to deal only with “the celebrated Proof of the Existence of God.” 7 He will do so, as we have already noted on several occasions, by treating it within the total context of Anselm’s theological scheme. Thus, as we enter into an analysis of this highly original interpretation of Proslogion 2-4 it will be necessary for us to keep in mind the basic considerations articulated in the last chapter. B. The Barthian Approach to “Proslogion” 2-4

Arthur C. McGill has effectively argued that a representative selection of recent historical studies of the famous Anselmian attempt to articulate a cogent “proof” of God’s existence have this one thing in common:

They affirm that human thought cannot make any judgement about what is real simply by analyzing or comparing or drawing 4 Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. in. Cf., St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 97. 5 Barth, Anselm, p. 13. 6 Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 117 and St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 101. We have to do here with the wording given the formula in Proslogion 2, where it appears for the first time. However, as Barth has cor­ rectly observed, "the actual formulation is not fixed either in the Proslogion itself or in the essay against Gaunilo: instead of aliquid Anselm can also say id. It can even be further abbreviated by omitting the pronoun. Possit can be replaced by potest and occasionally by valet; nihil also by non; nihil (or non) . . . possit (or potest) also by nequit and also, quite frequently, by maius or melius.” Anselm, pp. 73-74. 7 Barth, Anselm, p. 14.

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implications from its own subjective ideas. In order to speak of “existence,” the mind must in some way be grasped by what is beyond its ideas.8

On the basis of this common conviction these studies seek to show, in various and interesting ways, that Anselm does not begin with a mere “man-made idea”—that he is not just “moving within the closed circle” of his own “subjective reasoning.” 9 In order to accomplish such a task, of course, they all find it necessary to reconsider “the starting point of the argument.” 10 Stated in a 8 Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 70. 9 Ibid., pp. 70-71. 10 Ibid., p. 71. In his highly useful discussion of this particular issue McGill offers a reasonably comprehensive typology of the theories advanced. There are six identifiable types. First in order is the approach which appeals to “a realistic idea.” The argument here is that Anselm begins with a direct cognition or awareness of God’s reality—a reality which, in its unsurpassable greatness, transcends the human mind. He then proceeds to the inescapable conclusion that such an incomparable reality must necessarily exist. This is a genuinely “onto­ logical” argument because it attributes “to the mind a direct understanding (logos) of God’s essence (ontos).” (Ibid., p. 72.) The term “ontological” is used in this particular context in a pre-Kantian, or at least a non-Kantian, sense. That is, it is taken as a designation for “an understanding or science (logos') of the real, essential being (ontos) of things.” (Ibid., p. 72, n. 138.) On the other hand, “Kant, who held that the mind has no contact with external reality, except in sensory experience, used the word ‘ontological’ to designate that thinking which deals only with pure concepts, that is, with the a priori forms of the intellect which are devoid of all objective (that is, sensory) content.” (Ibid.) Quite obviously, then, for Kant an ontological proof of God’s existence has no philosophical validity whatsoever. A second type is distinguised by its assertion that the idea of “something than which nothing greater can be thought” is “a noetic datum,” the cause of which, or the cause of the logical necessity that the human mind recognizes in it, is God. This interpretation of Anselm’s argument tends to construe it in cosmological rather than ontological terms. That is, “it begins with a con­ tingent datum—namely, an idea or an inference in our minds—and it points to God’s real existence as the only possible cause for this datum.” (Ibid., pp. 79-80.) The third interpretative scheme described by McGill views the argument of Proslogion 2-4 as one that sets “a limit to ‘conceiving’.” (Ibid., p. 83.) Thus, we have to do here not with “a noetic datum,” but with “a noetic limit, imposed by, and therefore indicative of, reality itself.” (Ibid., p. 87.) The logic of the argument, then, serves to demonstrate that because the mind of man is unable to “conceive of anything greater than God” it is also unable either to affirm or even to conceive of his nonexistence. (Ibid.) A fourth approach has been developed by the French school of Reflexive Philosophy—a school whose roots are firmly planted in the soil of pheno­ menology. From the perspective of this particular group of thinkers Anselm is to be understood as having made "a reflexive discovery.” (Ibid., p. 89.)

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slightly different manner, in as much as all of these studies reject the standard or traditional notion that Anselm begins his “proof” with “a purely mental concept” and proceeds by drawing “out the implications found there,” 11 it is incumbent upon them to be That is, he discovered that men can conceive the idea of God because they are “sustained and activated from within by God.” {Ibid., p. 90.) The idea of God, then, is “that by which and toward which the mind is moved and pro­ voked in all its thinking.” {Ibid.) The implication here is that the formula first articulated in Proslogion 2 really serves to show men that they do “conceive of God, not of God as some object out in the world, but of God as the absolute maximum of the mind’s conceiving ...” {Ibid., p. 91). This results in the initiation of “a reflexive inquiry.” {Ibid). Such an inquiry actually leads one to an awareness of being possessed by “an activity that exceeds the data of . . . consciousness.” {Ibid). But this is to recognize the divine presence as “the foundation of consciousness.” {Ibid). In other words, this is to recognize God as the one who embraces the mind of man and “stands at the origin of its dynamism.” {Ibid.) The fifth alternative discussed by McGill is entitled “a revealed rule for thought.” {Ibid., pp. 93ft). This, of course, is the interpretative type repre­ sented by Karl Barth. However, in as much as it is his position that is before us in this chapter there is no need to offer even a brief characterization of it here. The sixth and final approach discussed appeals to the Monologion as the definitive source of explanation for the status of the initial idea of God assumed in the Proslogion. Those who represent this type, then, insist that Anselm presupposes the proofs from his first treatise as he reasons in his second one. This means that the Proslogion is really an “extention of, or appendix to, the Monologion.” {Ibid., p. 103). Therefore, if we are serious in wanting to understand the formula “something than which nothing greater can be thought,” we must view it against the background of the eleventh­ century saint’s earlier attempt “to prove the existence of a summum magnum from the existence of things in this world.” {Ibid., p. 102). McGill acutely demonstrates the apparent plausibility of every one of these interpretative schemes. However, he displays an equal acuity in disclosing their rather serious individual shortcomings. In so doing he firmly establishes the disconcerting facts that Anselm’s celebrated and provocative argument for God’s existence is indeed a “many-faced” one, and that its definitive treatment has yet to be placed before us. McGill goes on to suggest that “the next proposal” should be shaped by the insights of “the later” Heidegger—insights that recognize words as “the instruments of reality itself, the medium through which being discloses itself, using man’s voice as its spokesman.” {Ibid., p. no). It is intimated that on the basis of these insights it might be possible to understand why Anselm thought that an utterance of the formula first articulated in Proslogion 2 is all that is neces­ sary to establish the existence of God. But, of course, such a project must be executed before it can be evaluated. 11 Ibid., p. 33. This standard or traditional notion is the one criticized so thoroughly by Kant. Thus, there are very few scholars today would attempt to defend the Proslogion "proof” in this particular form. However, two very eminent scholars are among those few who would, and do, make such an attempt.The first to be mentioned is F. S. Schmitt, the editor of the eleventh­

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specific about where he actually does begin and how he then proceeds. Barth’s own scholarly efforts in this regard assume a place of high importance among those recent historical studies to which reference is being made. 1. A revolutional starting point

The principle features of the Swiss Theologian’s unique approach to the problem of reinterpreting “the logic” of Anselm’s provocative argument are displayed with prominence when he writes: The Proslogion as a whole deals with the Existence {quia os') and Perfect Nature [quia hoc es) of God. Both are presupposed as revealed and believed: credimus. For faith the question of truth is answered on both sides. But for that very reason it now arises for thought. Veritas will not be separated from veritas cogitationis', nor credo from the task: ut intelligam. And intelligere means: by presupposing other articles of faith, to perceive the necessity of this article of faith and the sheer impossibility of its denial. It is with this per­ ception as it applies to the Existence and Perfect Nature of God that the Proslogion is concerned.*12 In this pregnant quotation we encounter several themes which have engaged our attention before. Nevertheless, it still serves to advance our discussion. It does so by placing the Proslogion within the total context of what was previously said concerning the nature and method of theology. Thus, we are led to realize that the proof of God’s existence, which the eleventh-century saint so skillfully formulated, rests upon the sure foundation of faith’s endeavor to understand that which it already believes to be indisputably true. Because he considers the argument of Proslogion 2-4 to be a theological one, Barth can assert that its starting point lies in God’s revelation of himself. It is this revelation which is witnessed to by the Church’s Credo and assented to by the Christian. This means that we are asked to begin the inquiry into the question of God’s existence with “an article of faith.” 13 Quite obviously, then, all those commentators who think that such an inquiry actually begins with an idea which forms “a constituent part of a universal human awareness of God” 14 have simply misunderstood, or misrepre­ century saint’s collected works. See his “Der ontologische Gottesbeweise Anselms,” Theologische Revue, 32 (1933), 217-223. Second in order, chrono­ logically speaking, is D. M. Cappuyns. See his “L’argument de saint Anselme, Recherches de theologie ancienne et medievale, 6 (1934), 323-327. 12 Barth, Anselm, p. 102. 13 Ibid., p. 77. 14 Ibid., p. 77.

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sented, Anselm’s real intent. In so doing they have made him out to be a philosopher of religion rather than a theologian. But what is this article of faith with which the inquiry into the question of God’s existence must begin ? It is the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit. This formula, Barth assures us, is the revealed Name of God. It is, more precisely, "one Name of God, selected from among the various revealed Names of God for this occasion and for this particular purpose ...” 15 We have to do here, then, with a fundamental presupposition of the proof. In other words, in seeking to prove the existence of God the eleventh-century saint assumes "a Name of God the meaning of which implies that the statement ‘God exists’ is necessary (that means, that the statement ‘God does not exist’ is impossible).” 16 Having identified the formula which serves as the starting point of Anselm’s celebrated proof of God’s existence as the revealed Name of God, Barth proceeds with haste to a discussion of the proper limits for its usage. It is, he cautions, “a concept of strict noetic content.” 17 In the words of Alexander Koyre, ‘‘it is une

15 Ibid., p. 75. 16 Ibid., p. 73. In this same context Barth observes that the very Name of God in question functions in Proslogion 5-26 “to prove the Nature of God (that means his Perfection and Unique Originality).’’ This particular Name “implies that the statements, ‘God is perfect and originally wise, mighty, righteous, etc.,’ are necessary (that is, all statements to the opposite effect are impossible).” On this understanding of the matter the formula first articu­ lated in Proslogion 2 is the basic unifying element which is presupposed in both sections of the treatise. E. Gilson, in his essay “Sens et nature de 1’argument de saint Anselme,” has seen fit to take issue with Barth’s claim that the aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit formula is actually the revealed Name of God. (Archives d’histoire doctrinale et litteraire du Moyen Äge, IX (1934), 25-28). Henri Bouillard, however, argues against Gilson and in support of Barth on this particular point. See his Karl Barth: Parole de Dieu et existence humaine, Deuxieme Partie (Paris: Aubier, 1957), pp. iqSff. The issue, it seems, is whether the formula in question should be viewed as a rule of thought or as an idea expressive of the divine essence. It is the latter alternative that is supported by Gilson. He is convinced that the Proslogion proof turns on a cogitatio and not a nomen. In attempting to defend this interpretation he finds himself in the camp of those who take the “noetic datum” approach to the problem at hand. (Supra, pp. 89-90, n. 10). For a brief discussion of Gilson’s position see Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 81. Bouillard’s insights are given rather thorough treatment by Vincent G. Potter in his essay, "Karl Barth and the Ontological Argument,” Journal of Religion, Vol. 45, No. 4 (October, 1965), pp. 309-325. 17 Barth, Anselm, p. 75. See also p. 83.

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definition purement conceptuclle.” 18 As such it functions as “a rule for thinking about God.” 19 The character which it displays in so doing is a prohibitive one. That is, in its capacity as a Denkregel the formula of Proslogion 2 warns the one who apprehends it that “he can conceive of nothing greater . . . beyond God without lapsing into the absurdity, excluded for faith, of placing himself above God in attempting to conceive of this greater.” 20 Stated a bit differently, this “rule of thought” informs us of the manner in which God is not to be conceived: “He is not to be conceived in such a way .. . that anything greater than him could be imagined or even imagined as conceivable.” 21 Thus, while the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit does lead us to an understanding of who God is, it can neither tell us that he is, nor indicate to us what he is.22 The implications of these carefully derived assertions are profoundly significant. In the first place, it must be observed that the formula which serves as a fundamental presupposition of the Proslogion argument has no particular value, in and of itself, for the project of proving God’s existence and nature. This is a consequence of its strictly formal or noetic status. In order for it to become useful as a means of proof a second presupposition must be recognized as necessary. This second presupposition is, of course, “the prior ‘givenness’ (credible on other grounds) of the thought of the Existence and of the Nature of God which with his help is to be raised to knowledge and proof.” 23 Indeed, how can it be otherwise if the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit is really the revealed Name of God ? When the existence and nature of God are disclosed to and believed by faith, faith is driven to seek an understanding of that which it assents to without question. This is what the move from credimus to intelligere is all about. We are confronted here, quite obviously, with a delineation of the Proslogion problem which is entirely consistent with the dynamics of the theological enterprise analyzed in chapter two of our study. A second implication is closely related to the one just discussed. 18 dans 19 20 21 22 23

Ibid., p. 75. The reference is to Koyr6’s notable work L’Idee de Dieu la Philosophie de St. Anselme, p. 203. Barth, Anselm, p. 87. See also p. 80. Ibid., p. 77. Ibid., p. 83. Ibid., p. 75. Ibid.

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If the content of the formula with which Anselm begins his argu­ ment is strictly noetic, then it is most emphatically not a condensed version of a doctrine of God. To understand this formula in that way would be to attempt to fill it with ontic content. This is the horren­ dous mistake committed by Gaunilo of Marmoutier in his famous reply On Behalf of the Fool,2* and by several well-meaning theolo­ gians in the thirteenth century.24 25 But why should such an under­ standing be deemed a mistake? Because "in the background of every ontic conception of God" lurks the conceivability of his “non­ existence or imperfection.” 26*28 This follows from the fact that these 24 St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 125-129. 25 The men specifically mentioned in this regard are Richard Fishacre, Wilhelm of Auxerre, and Alexander of Hales. It is reported that they all compromised the Proslogion argument “by introducing it within a series of proofs of God clearly based on ontic assumptions each and all of which Anselm had declared to be ambiguous.” (Barth, Anselm, p. 87, n. 1). The situation improves only slightly when we consider the conclusions of Bona­ ventura, Thomas Aquinas, and Agidius of Rome. These men "saw correctly that what was involved in the concept that Anselm presupposed was the ‘Name of God.’ However, they incorrectly assumed that this was an “essen­ tial Name” rather than a “personal Name” of God. With this false assump­ tion they focused attention on “the nature of God.” Once again, therefore, the attempt is made to handle the formula of Proslogion 2 as if it were weighted down with an ontic content. (I&irf., p. 77, n. 5). It should be noted in this context that St. Thomas rejects the proof as invalid while all the other men listed above find it acceptable in one form or another. The basis of St. Thomas’ rejection of the proof is his conviction that it assumes that God’s existence is self-evident. He asserts that it is most definitely not—at least, not to all men. Therefore, the proof fails. See his Summa Theologica, First Part, Question 2 on “the Existence of God,” First Article. See also infra, p. 99, n. 45. Seeking to refute this interpretative stance Barth writes: “Anselm’s references to the revelatory-theological character of the vital assumption of his proof are overlooked when this is understood, as is frequently done especially by Thomas Aquinas, as an answer to the question: ‘whether the existence of God is self-evident.’ For Anselm there is no such ‘self-evidence’ in theology, no insights which do not stand under the seal of faith.” (Barth, Anselm, p. 78, n. 2). The Swiss Theologian cites as his source in these historical matters the classic work by P. A. Daniels entitled Quellenbeiträge und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der Gottesbeweise im XIII Jahrhundert, mit besonderer Berück­ sichtigung des Arguments im Proslogion des Hlg. Anselm, Beiträge zur Ge­ schichte der Philosophie des Mittelalters, VIII, 1-2 (Munster: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1909). For a more recent and highly informative study of the handling of Anselm’s celebrated proof in the thirteenth century see Jean Chatillon’s essay “De Gauillaume d’Auxerre ä Thomas d’Aquin: 1’argument de saint Anselme chez les premiers scolastiques du XHIe siecle,” Spicilegium Beccense, pp. 209-231. 28 Barth, Anselm, p. 89.

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conceptions are inevitably devised by the fallible mind of man. For this reason they are unable to break out of the circle of human thought. They cannot, therefore, achieve that element of necessity which is required if we are to speak convincingly of proof.27 Perhaps a concrete example will serve to clarify the issue at stake here. In criticizing Anselm’s effort to prove God’s existence Gaunilo consistently employed the phrase quod est maius omnibus as a substitute for the expression quo maius cogitari nequit.'2* It is quite evident that he understood them to be equivalent formulations. When the eleventh-century saint penned his Reply to the Monk of Marmoutier, however, he insisted that in all of his writings there could be found no evidence to support such an understanding.27 29 28 Furthermore, to assume that quod est maius omnibus can be treated as an equivalent to quo maius cogitari nequit is to miss the whole point of the argument. Only the latter formulation entails necessity of existence.30 Barth views Gaunilo’s attempt to alter the Anselmian language as “a transliteration back into ontic terminology of the noetic terminology” deliberately chosen for the purposes of the proof.31 Thus, while the formula quo maius cogitari nequit is “a designation or Name of God,” the expression quod est maius omnibus is actually "a brief paraphrase of the Nature of God.”32 But such an expression is not a sufficient basis upon which to establish the necessity of God’s existence. This is the case because it (and all others like it) fails (fail) to rule out the possibility of his nonexistence. Indeed, the nonexistence of God can quite readily be conceived without dimin­ ishing in any way the expression we are considering. Nor can the situation be improved by turning from the question of God’s existence to a discussion of his incomparable perfection. Here again 27 Ibid., p. 86. 28 This occurs on almost every page of his On Behalf of the Fool. See St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 125, 127, 128, 129. 29 St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 134. 30 Ibid. ”... 'that which is greater than everything’ and 'that-thanwhich-a-greater-cannot-be-thought’ are not equivalent for the purpose of proving the real existence of the thing spoken of. Thus, if anyone should say that ‘that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought’ is not something that actually exists, or that it can possibly not exist, or even can be thought of as not existing, he can easily be refuted.” Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 179. 31 Barth, Anselm, p. 86. 32 Ibid.

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the goal is an ever-receding one. In as much as the quod est maius omnibus formula “does not preclude the possibility that a maius eo (etiam si non sit) could at least be conceived,’’ it (and all others like it) must be judged inadequate as a proof of “what faith holds to be the Nature of God.’’ 33 But on what grounds can one justly claim that the phrase quo maius cogitari nequit is adequate as a proof of God’s existence and nature? Barth’s answer to this question is deceptively simple: On the grounds of “its austere character as a rule for thinking about God ...” 34 The ingenious logic of this answer has yet to be ex­ plored. Earlier in this chapter we noted in passing that the Proslogion argument rests upon two presuppositions: the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit (understood as the revealed Name of God), and the prior givenness (to faith) of the thought of the exist­ ence and the nature of God. We must now emphasize the fact that these two presuppositions function in quite different ways within the proof itself. The first one is the means of proving, while the second one is the object to be proved. Stated in terms which recall our previous discussion of Barth’s interpretation of Anselm’s theological method, the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit (understood as the revealed Name of God) is an article of faith drawn from the Church’s Credo. Therefore, it can serve as the “a” of the argument. In Proslogion 2-4 “the Nature of God accepted in faith and already indispensable for the definition of the concep­ tion of the Existence of God certainly comes under consideration as ‘b’.” 35 The unknown x in this instance is, of course, the existence of God. The aim of the proof is to transform this unknown quantity into one that is known.36 The move here, it must be observed, is from credimus to intelligere and not from unbelief to belief. In Proslogion 5-26 the situation is very much the same. The “a’’ is still the formula first articulated in Proslogion 2. However, now the “b” is the existence of God which has just been proved, while the x to be solved is precisely the nature of God previously assumed but at this juncture treated as the unknown. It should be apparent from the line of argumentation just set forth that 33 Ibid. The phrase which appears in Latin within the first quotation may be rendered as follows: “greater than it (even if not actually existing). . .” 34 Ibid., p. 87. 35 Ibid., p. 78, n. 3. 36 Ibid., p. 78.

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The designation of God as quo maius cogitari nequit does not assume the existence or nature of any creature, certainly not of God himself, neither as actually conceived nor as being conceivable. It simply says that if God should or could be conceived—that both these are in fact so is obviously the other assumption, the substance of the Proof—then nothing else may be conceived of as greater than God.37

Such is Barth’s understanding of the purely formal or noetic character of Anselm’s famous formula “something than which nothing greater can be thought.” It is precisely because the quo maius cogitari nequit formula has the formal or noetic character just described that it can function as a Denkregel. This implies that in order to proceed it requires not ontic assumptions concerning God’s existence and nature, but only fallible human thoughts and assertions about these important mat­ ters—thoughts and assertions which are to be accepted, corrected, or rejected. But if this is the case are we not still restricted to that circle of human thought referred to above? According to Barth’s understanding of the problem, we are not. Indeed, he is convinced that Anselm’s novel formula, when correctly apprehended as the re­ vealed Name of God, breaks us out of this circle. It does so by serving as a divinely disclosed criterion for determining the truth or falsity of our theological thinking and speaking. When applied to Proslogion 2-4 this remarkable conclusion provides the argument developed there with a full measure of genuine objectivity. In other words, it assures us that the eleventh-century saint was not just ‘ 'moving within the closed circle’ ’ of his own “subj ective reasoning. ”38 It should be perfectly clear from all that has been said to this point that the Anselmian proof, as interpreted by Barth, does not provide us with a direct knowledge of God. It does, however, present us with “a knowledge of the truth or falsity of our thoughts about God.” 39 But this means that it is definitely synthetic in character rather than analytic.40 Here is where Gaunilo (and many others who followed him in this regard, including Kant) simply failed to perceive the argument’s essential dynamics. He was ob­ viously under the impression that Anselm intended to prove God’s

37 38 39 40

Ibid., p. 88. Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, pp. 70-71. Ibid., p. 97. Barth, Anselm, p. 89. 7

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existence with the quo maius cogitari nequit formula alone. That is, he undoubtedly assumed that the formula in question was being treated as a self-evident proposition on the basis of which the necessity of God’s existence could be asserted. Motivated by this conviction he unhesitatingly registered doubt and even denial, and then demanded “an indubitable argument’’ which would demon­ strate that “this ... greater than everything truly exists in reality somewhere ...” 41 Can this be anything but a demand for some means whereby one might come to a knowledge of God’s existence on grounds other than a mere concept of God? 42 In opposition to this particular understanding of the Proslogion argument Barth advances the thesis that the real task which the proof is designed to accomplish has to do with the demonstration of “a strong and discernible connection” between the revealed Name of God and the Christian’s prior belief in his existence and perfection.43 On the basis of such a demonstration any doubt or denial of God’s exist­ ence or perfection is ruled out. Indeed, even the conceiv ability of his nonexistence or imperfection is excluded. The central and unique feature of the interpretative stance just depicted is that it allows Anselm to proceed with his reasoning within the context of revelation rather than in place of it. Just where such reasoning leads in Proslogion 2-4 has yet to be indicated. In attempting to do this we shall be developing what might well be viewed as the third major implication of Barth’s consistently theo­ logical approach to the eleventh-century saint’s celebrated proof of God’s existence. Before turning to these matters, however, a rather careful analysis of the basic structure of the passage in question must claim our attention. 2. Structural considerations Barth’s scrupulously thorough exegetical study of Proslogion 2-4 manifests a noteworthy appreciation of the subtle complexity of the Anselmian argument. In so doing it contributes significantly to the enormous body of literature devoted to a discussion of that famous and enduring text. This is the case because it serves as a needed corrective to that long tradition in which the proof has been 41 Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 163. Cf., St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 128. 42 Cf., Barth, Anselm, pp. 81 and 131. 43 Ibid., pp. 75-76.

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frequently treated in either a truncated or a repetitive manner. For example, several critics of Anselm, beginning with Gaunilo himself, have written as though the syllogism of the second chapter was meant to bear the entire weight of the argument,44 while others, including Thomas Aquinas, have proceeded on the assumption that chapters two and three are actually parallel attempts to establish the same conclusion.45 It is to Barth's credit that he has found it possible to adduce enough textual evidence to weaken, if not refute, both of these critical postures. In his analysis of Proslogion 2-4 the Swiss theologian identifies four distinct phases of the discussion. Two of these, chapter two and the first paragraph of chapter three, constitute what he takes to be the proof proper. The second paragraph of chapter three, in which “Anselm resumes the form of address to God,” 46 must be viewed as yet another phase of the total passage being considered. While this phase is not a constituent part of the proof as such it does serve to underscore two facts of high importance: (1) that the eleventh­ century saint is proceeding theologically rather than philosophically, 44 There is very little, if any, really concrete evidence in the Monk of Marmoutier’s response On Behalf of the Fool to indicate an awareness on his part of Anselm's serious concern to carry the argument beyond the syllogism of chapter two. See St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 125-129. Cf., Barth, Anselm, pp. 129-132. Furthermore, the well-known Kantian critique of the so-called “ontolog­ ical” argument is directed primarily against the type of formulation en­ countered in Proslogion 2. We have stated this issue somewhat cautiously because all the available evidence points to the fact that Kant was not acquainted at first hand with Anselm’s work. Rather, his knowledge of the argument was, most probably, derived from Descartes, Leibniz, and A. G. Baumgarten. For a detailed discussion of this matter see Charles Harts­ horne’s informative book Anselm’s Discovery: A Re-examination of the Ontological Proof For God’s Existence (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1965), pp. 2o8ff. In this same context we must also note that Etienne Gilson has written concerning “The Proof of the Proslogion” without even a passing reference to the third chapter of that work. See his History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (New York: Random House, 1955), pp. 132ft. 46 St. Thomas is convinced that both formulations seek to demonstrate that God’s existence is entirely self-evident. He points out that in the first one the argument turns on “the very meaning of the name God,” while in the second one it hinges on the conviction that God is the being “whose non­ existence cannot be thought.” See his On the Truth of the Catholic Faith: Summa Contra Gentiles, Book One: God, trans, by Anton C. Pegis (New York: Doubleday, 1955), pp. 79-80. The reference here is to chapter 10, paragraphs 2 and 3. See also supra, p. 94, n. 25. 46 Barth, Anselm, p. 150.

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and (2) that “the whole theological inquiry is ... undertaken and carried through in prayer.” 47 This is all by way of saying that in this crucial third phase of the discussion Barth understands Anselm to be emphasizing his complete disavowal of natural theology and the whole apologetic enterprise. The final phase of the passage in question is presented in chapter four where “the possibility of denying the existence of God” 48 is taken into serious account, and explained. Here the curious notion that such a denial is really an “impossible possibility” is provided with a measure of clarification. It is argued that when the Fool says in his heart “there is no God,” he is really doing that which is impossible in the sense that it has been forbidden.49 We are simply not permitted to conceive the non-existence of God. And yet, by the miracle of foolishness or unbelief “it is possible to think of God as not existing. But only by this miracle.” 50 However, to think and speak as the Fool does is to think and speak “as one who is not saved by the grace of God.” 51 The proper ground upon which to engage a person like this is that of fides quaerens intellectum. To abandon this ground in order to please the Fool will in no wise help him cease being what he is.52 Thus, we 47 Ibid. McGill observes that a few critics have charged that Barth’s failure “to take the second, praying part of Proslogion III seriously” counters Anselm’s own apparent intention. The eleventh-century saint, it seems, must have understood this particular section to be quite essential to his argument in as much as he did not challenge the Fool’s denial until after he had com­ pleted it. Barth, on the other hand, contends that it is not essential to the proof at all. In fact, it merely functions to express “the devout obedience with which all Cristian thinking about God must be conducted.” (Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 45). It is, of course, quite true that Barth does not consider the praying section of Proslogion 3 to be part of the proof proper. But this is not to say that he fails to take it seriously. Indeed, the Bonn Professor views this third phase of the total passage under discussion as a crucial contribution conditioning both the attitude and the approach appropriate to the theological task. We would suggest, therefore, that the Barthian division of the text must be either praised or blamed from this perspective. 48 Barth, Anselm, p. 161. 49 Ibid., p. 159. 50 Ibid., p. 165. 51 Ibid., p. 160. 62 Ibid., p. 166. Cf., supra, p. 76, n. 160 where Andr£ Hayen’s reaction to Barth’s interpretation of the Fool’s role is discussed. Commenting on this very issue, McGill writes: “By completely identifying Anselm with revelational theology, Barth finds that he must posit a discontinuity in the text, between the statements which describe and engage the unbeliever in terms of what the believer knows, and the argument itself, which, by the application of a revealed rule of thought, gives understanding to the Christian

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can see that even in this fourth phase of the discussion Barth does not fail to reiterate the themes of no natural theology and no apologetics. It should be obvious from this brief outline that Barth discovers only one proof being developed in Proslogion 2-3 and not two, but that he does view it as having two distinct phases. In the first phase it is God’s general existence which is established, while in the second phase his special existence is proved. This second phase is really a narrowing of the one and only proof; it is most definitely not a repetition of the first phase.5354 Such a narrowing of the argu­ ment is unquestionably a decisive step, but it presupposes that which has gone before. To slight either phase, therefore, is to miss the whole point of the proof. With this innovative understanding of the basic structure of the Anselmian proof of God’s existence Barth places himself in direct opposition to that venerable critical tradition which has emphasized either the primacy of the syllogism stated in Proslogion 2, or the separate but parallel arguments leading to an identical conclusion articulated in chapters two and three of the treatise under consid­ eration. But there is an influential contemporary variation on this structural theme with which Barth’s version also fails to agree, at least in any strict sense. This, of course, is the approach championed by Charles Hartshorne and Norman Malcolm. Both men are con­ vinced that Anselm enunciated two separate proofs for the exist­ ence of God in the Proslogion They hold that the one set forth believer. The text itself, however, indicates no such discontinuity, either in its style or train of thought. In fact, it creates just the opposite impression . . . The whole proof seems to be based on what is in the fool’s mind.” (Hick and McGill, The Many-faced Argument, p. 100). It seems evident that while Hayen’s modification of Barth’s position at this point is motivated by theological concerns, McGill’s objection is primarily textual in nature. It cannot be doubted, however, that the Bonn Professor’s controversial division of Proslogion 2-4 is perfectly consistent with his particular under­ standing of the movement of Anselm’s thought as a whole. 53 Barth, Anselm, p. 140. 54 The writings in which Hartshorne treats the ontological argument are so numerous that we shall mention here only four of his most significant contributions to the subject at hand. First in order is his book Man’s Vision of God and the Logic of Theism (Chicago: Willett, Clark and Co., 1941). This document was reprinted by Archon Books, Hamden, Connecticut in 1964. It contains the author’s first major published comments on the ontological argument. The discussion presented therein turns on a careful identification of three types of theism, the second of which is dipolar in outlook. It is then shown that this “second type theism” is thoroughly supportive of the famous

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in chapter two, however, is weak and logically invalid. In point of fact, it “is but a blundering preamble or unlucky false start in the development of’’ 55 the strong and logically valid proof presented in the first paragraph of chapter three. Therefore, what we en­ counter here is not a mere repetition or parallel presentation of the proofs, as St. Thomas supposed,56 but a genuine progression in ar­ gumentation. This progression leads from the proposal that God exists because it is better to exist than not to exist {Proslogion 2), to the assertion that God exists necessariljz because it is better to exist without conceivable alternative of not existing than to exist with such alternative {Proslogion 3).57 On these structural matters Hartshorne and Malcolm find themselves to be in strict accord, even though later they come to a parting of the ways on the issue of the precise nature of necessity.58 But further into this interesting Anselmian attempt to prove the necessary existence of God. See especially pp. 299ft. Three years after the appearance of the book just noted Hartshorne published an important essay in which he asserted that Anselm had formu­ lated two separate and distinct versions of the ontological argument and that the second one was completely untouched by the traditional criticisms. This essay is entitled "The Formal Validity and Real Significance of the Ontological Argument,” The Philosophical Review, Vol. LIII, No. 3, May, 1944, pp. 225-245. The essay which has attracted the greatest amount of attention to Harts­ horne’s attempt to defend Anselm’s celebrated argument is the highly technical and philosophically rigorous “Ten Ontological or Modal Proofs For God’s Existence,” The Logic of Perfection and Other Essays in Neoclassical Metaphysics (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Co., 1962), pp. 28-117. Finally we must mention this author’s masterful critical study Anselm’s Discovery: A Re-examination of the Ontological Argument for God’s Existence. This work surveys the history of the argument while proffering a provocative defense of its second and most cogent formulation. Here is a book that should be read by every student of philosophy and theology. Norman Malcolm’s notable contribution to the issue before us is “Anselm’s Ontological Arguments,” Philosophical Review, 69 (i960), 41-62. This essay has been reprinted in The Ontological Argument: From St. Anselm to Contem­ porary Philosophers, edited by Alvin Plantinga, with an Introduction by Richard Taylor (New York: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1965), pp. 136-159. 55 Hartshorne, Anselm’s Discovery, p. 14. 56 McGill is simply mistaken when he writes: “The latter \Proslogion 3] seems to be a refinement or development of the former [Proslogion 2], rather than a strict repetition, as Thomas and Hartshorne propose.” Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 42. Indeed, it is precisely Hartshorne’s point that the third chapter is “a refinement of development” of the second. See esp. pp. 99ft. of Anselm Discovery. 57 Hartshorne, Anselm’s Discovery, pp. 88-89. 58 See ibid., p. 41 for a discussion of this issue.

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metaphysical problem we must not and need not go at this partic­ ular juncture. In spite of the rather obvious differences between them, Barth’s position has more in common with the one shared by Hartshorne and Malcolm than it does with either of the traditional alternatives. For example, the Swiss Theologian and the two American philos­ ophers tend to agree that Anselm takes a decisive step in the first paragraph of Proslogion 3—a step which moves him well beyond the discussion in chapter two. Indeed, that is why Barth refers to this second phase of the proof as the argument for God’s special exist­ ence. What makes his existence special is the fact that he cannot even be conceived of as not existing. In other words, God exists necessarily. Thus, here is another point of agreement between the parties being compared. Furthermore, they share the notion that there is a certain progression to be noted in the transition from the second to the third chapter, although this point should not be pressed too far. For Hartshorne and Malcolm such a progression is from a logically weak and inferior statement of the argument to one that is logically strong and superior. On Barth’s understanding it is a shift from the establishment of one mode of God’s true existence to the proof of another. This last observation introduces the need to specify the basic differences separating these two approaches to the structural problem that is presently occupying our attention. The most crucial difference, of course, has to do with the nature of the rela­ tionship between Proslogion 2 and the first paragraph of Proslogion 3. We have already learned that this is the fundamental issue which sets Barth’s interpretation in opposition to both the critical tradi­ tion and the position defended by Hartshorne and Malcolm. There­ fore, no further comment is required at this point. The other sig­ nificant difference between the Swiss Theologian and these contem­ porary American contributors to the on-going debate projects our thinking far beyond the problem of structure, although it certainly has a bearing on that problem. We have in mind here the difference between a theological perspective and a philosophical one; between the logic of faith and the logic of the argument. In as much as this particular difference lies close to the core of our concern in this study we must defer discussion of it until Hartshorne’s views have been examined in some depth. Having pursued the issue of the basic structure of the Proslogion

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proof quite far enough for the purpose of our presentation in this chapter, we must now turn to an investigation of the relevant details of Barth's controversial exegesis of that famous Anselmian passage. I11 so doing we shall be clarifying and developing the first two phases of the four-phase movement adumbrated above. With­ in these two phases is to be found that third major implication to which reference was previously made. 3. Concerning God’s general and special existence

It will be recalled that on Barth’s understanding of the matter the so-called proof proper conies to full expression in phases one and two of the four-phase movement just mentioned, and that these are set forth in Proslogion 2 and the first paragraph of Proslogion 3, respectively. It will also be recalled that in the first phase God’s general existence is established, while in the second one his special existence is proved. Just what these two modes of the divine being’s existence are and how they can be demonstrated must now claim our attention. The general existence of God is defined by the fact that he exists not only in the understanding (in intellectu) but in reality (in re) as well—that he exists not only “in thought but also over against thought.” 59 In other words, to argue effectively for God’s general existence is to establish the truth of his reality both “inwardly” and “outwardly.” 60 This particular mode of existence the divine being shares with his contingent creatures. Thus, to speak of God’s general existence is to attribute to him at least as much reality as is possessed by all other actual entities be they sticks or stones or men.61 Here we have an abbreviated version of how Barth ap­ proaches the sequence of reasoning presentedin Proslogion 2. Let us turn with haste to an exposition of this somewhat striking inter­ pretation of that celebrated passage. Barth allows his discussion of the second chapter of the Proslogion to turn upon a subtle distinction between what is preliminary to the proof and the proof itself. Such a distinction is absolutely crucial if the thesis of Anselm’s complete rejection of natural theology and the apologetic enterprise is to be held with any degree of consistency. This is the case because it serves to support the notion that the 59 Barth, Anselm, p. 101. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid., pp. 123-124, 130.

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eleventh-century saint neither strives to reason from “a. universal minimum knowledge of God” nor attempts to move toward “his opponent’s basis of argument.” 62 But the distinction in question also has another vital role to play; it functions to defend Anselm against the frequently-levelled charge that he has actually confused the order of thought with the order of reality.63 In expounding these distinctive themes we shall gain a measure of insight into the Swiss Theologian’s thinking on the subject of God’s general existence. That which is preliminary to the proof, Barth informs us, has to do with the establishment of God’s “problematical” existence.64 This is existence in knowledge or in the understanding (in intel­ lects). We have to do here, quite obviously, with intramental existence alone. Approximately two-thirds of Proslogion 2 is devoted to the task of demonstrating that even the Fool who utters the words “non est Deus” cannot meaningfully dispute the fact that aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit possesses at least this “problematical” mode of existence. But does this not tend to imply that Anselm is actually proceeding in a manner which contradicts everything that was said above regarding natural theology, the apologetic enterprise, and the relationship between the orders of thought and reality ? If we follow Barth’s analysis carefully it will become apparent that a negative response to this question is the only appropriate one. The interesting contention that Anselm’s discussion with the Fool forms no part of the proof itself is a fundamental tenet in Barth’s consistently theological approach to the issue at hand. On the basis of this crucial contention three profoundly significant points are advanced as indisputable. The first of these assures us that the eleventh-century saint has no stake whatsoever in the apologetic enterprise. In developing this initial point we shall be providing a context in which the others can also be introduced and explained. It is the Fool’s forthright denial of God’s existence which serves as a reminder to Anselm that this particular article of faith is by no means self-evident.65 Therefore, he allows it to be placed in question so that it might be treated as a problem for his own reflection.66 62 63 64 65 66

Ibid., p. 106. Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 94. Barth, Anselm, pp. 109, 122, 123. Ibid., p. 122. Ibid., pp. 105-106.

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What he must do, then, is demonstrate how the believer’s faith in God’s existence “may be brought to knowledge.” 67 In other words, the task at hand is precisely that of facilitating the move from credimus to intelligere. That the Fool’s radical protest “non est Deus” can actually stimulate such a move should come as no surprise in as much as those who believe and those who do not seek one and the same thing.68 However, as we had occasion to learn in a previous chapter, they are engaged in this search for different reasons and they go about it in divergent ways. This means that while Anselm is perfectly willing to respond to the Fool’s denial in order to oppose it and thereby strengthen his own affirmation, he is definitely not open to the possibility of doing so on grounds other than those upon which his own faith rests. Thus, it is he who “defines what is to be meant by 'God’ in the discussion: he speaks and the other has to listen.” 6970 The words spoken, of course, are these: aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit. The discussion which ensues has as its sole subject the understandability of this distinc­ tive phrase. And, as we noted above, such a discussion results in the establishment of God’s “problematical” or intramental existence. It does so because even the Fool would have to admit that the phrase introduced by his opponent is logically coherent and gram­ matically correct. Furthermore, he could hardly regard its referent as anything but an object which is at least conceivable. Thus, he would be forced to concede that the object in question certainly exists in the understanding, if nowhere else. Stated in language that is reminiscent of our discussion of a closely related issue in the last chapter, when the Fool is confronted by a vox significans rem, which he undoubtedly understands, it can be said to exist in intellectu.10 We have to do here, quite obviously, with that “first level” intelligere which the unbeliever and the man of faith share as a common possession. This far they can, and do, go together, but no farther. In terms of the matter at hand, the Fool is perfectly able to comprehend the question of God’s existence as a problem for thought. However, the proof which resolves this problem by showing us who God is and by telling us how we are to think of him is simply beyond the Fool’s ken, so long as he remains an insipiens. It is for 67 68 69 70

Ibid., p. i22. Ibid., p. 106 and pp. 66ff. Ibid. See supra, pp. 50-51.

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this reason that Anselm’s discussion with him must not be viewed as anything more than a preliminary to the proof itself—a proof which comes to expression in the concluding seventy five words of Proslogion 2. On this reading of the matter, then, the eleventh-century saint is most emphatically not a participant in the apologetic enterprise. To be sure, he has willingly engaged the Fool in opposition. But he has done so on faith’s own ground, and with the aim of raising belief to knowledge. This is why the aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit formula is introduced—a formula which is really the revealed Name of God. Because the Fool refuses to recognize it as such, even though he might be inclined to accept it as at least an understandable expression of a concept of God, he can have no share in the outcome of the discussion, namely, the proof itself. However, there is yet another point which this interpretation tends to support. We have in mind here Barth’s programmatic assertion that Anselm is no natural theologian. In his encounter with the Fool the eleventh-century saint does not seek to argue on the basis of philosophical concepts, intuitive insights, or empirical observations.71 He simply pronounces the words aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit. In so doing he virtually calls upon the Fool to stand where he stands and to look where he looks. He realizes that there is no acceptable alternative because apart from “the Church, revelation, and faith” there is “in practice no conicere Deum.” 72 Which is all by way of saying that there is no viable basis for a natural theology. But what about the charge that Anselm has naively confused the order of thought with the order of reality? As we shall discover presently, Barth’s exegesis of the argument articulated in Pros­ logion 2 decisively refutes such a charge. It does so by emphasizing the distinction between what is preliminary to the proof and the proof itself. Thus, while the problem of God’s existence is posed in terms of the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit employed as an idea which the human mind can quite readily conceive, the solution to this problem does not turn upon the use of this idea as such and per se. Rather, its dynamic element is the same formula received as the revealed Name of God. In this context it functions as a rule of thought prohibiting inaccurate and inordinate Christian 71 Barth, Anselm, p. 106. 72 Ibid., p. 117.

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reflection concerning the existence (and nature) of the divine being.73 In other words, the formula in question actually serves in two very different capacities within the second chapter of the Proslogion. On the one hand, it is employed as the material element in faith’s discussion with unbelief. In this instance it defines what the human mind conceives and seeks to prove. However, on the other hand, it functions as the normative and formal element within the proof itself.74 This implies that it has been acknowledged as a revealed truth. Therefore, it is now to be treated as the means by which proving occurs. In so far as this crucial distinction is allowed to stand Anselm cannot be justly accused of moving directly from thought to reality. Having considered at some length the three noteworthy issues that are implicit in Barth’s decision to view Anselm’s discussion with the Fool as a prolegomenon to the attempt to prove God’s general existence, we must now undertake an examination of his exegesis of the proof itself. This dimension of the argument is introduced when the eleventh-century saint asserts “the impos­ sibility of an existence of God only within knowledge ...” 75 Indeed, such existence is merely “problematical.” If God is truly that which his name implies— “something than which nothing greater can be thought” —he must also exist actually and objec­ tively. But this is precisely what has to be proved. We need to emphasize that at this particular juncture the analysis focuses on God’s general existence—that mode of existence which 73 Ibid., p. 115. 74 We are indebted to Arthur C. McGill for the suggestion that the terms “material” and “formal” can be used in this particular manner to charac­ terize Barth’s handling of the extremely delicate problem of the movement of the argument in Proslogion 2. See Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argu­ ment, p. 99. McGill, however, is not entirely convinced that the text will actually support the Swiss Theologian at this juncture. Indeed, the Proslogion passage in question “seems to be exhibiting to the fool a purely intellectual contradiction in his own mind, and not warning Christians against the transgression of a God-given command.” (Ibid., p. 101). This is all by way of saying that the proof’s formula does not really function in two different ways. But is it not possible to view the shift that Barth identifies here as a variation on his previous treatment of the twofold nature of intelligere? (Barth, Anselm, pp. 24ft. Cf., supra, pp. 50ft). If it can be so viewed, then McGill’s critique loses much of its force unless that prior notion is shown to be implausible. 75 Barth, Anselm, p. 123. Barth has in view here Anselm’s assertion: “Et certe id quo maius cogitari nequit, non potest esse in solo intellectu.” St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 101.

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the divine being shares with his contingent creatures. This is, it will be recalled, existence et in inlellectu et in re. Until it is clear that God exists in this way, at least, there can be no meaningful talk concerning his unique or special mode of existence. There is, then, a strict line of progression to be followed in this matter of proving that the divine being exists: from “problematical” existence, to general existence, to special existence. No step can be omitted or treated with casualness without bringing the entire enterprise to naught. To terminate the project of proving with a demonstration of God’s “problematical” existence would be to deny him actual or objective existence. That is, it would be to deny him existence in truth. This is the case because “if God exists in truth he cannot exist merely in knowledge.” 76 But the same thing must be said of all existing entities. It is in this sense that God’s general existence is to be understood as the divine equivalent to that mode of existence which is manifested within the contingent order of creation. However, in as much as this perplexing assertion is by no means obvious we must seek to advance our discussion by highlighting what it involves. Barth perceives that the proof of God’s existence, in both of its phases, is based upon inferences drawn from “Anselm’s doctrines of Truth and Knowledge.” 77 In order to illustrate this important insight he asks us to envision three circles arranged from inner to middle to outer.78 It is the inner circle which represents existence in thought alone (in solo intellectu). Within the outer circle we en­ counter existence in reality, or existence in truth. This is existence which has no dependence whatsoever on thought. Finally, there is the middle circle wherein resides existence both in thought and in 76 Barth, Anselm, p. 123. 77 Ibid., p. 125. According to his own footnoting, Barth finds these doc­ trines adumbrated in both the Monologion and the Proslogion. They come to clearer expression, however, in the treatise De Veritate. In as much as this work was drafted sometime between 1080 and 1085 it is certainly not far removed from the two earlier documents just mentioned. The text of De Veritate appears in St. Anselm’s Opera omnia, I, 173ft. An excellent new translation of this treatise is to be found in Truth, Freedom, and Evil: Three Philosophical Dialogues by Anselm of Canterbury, edited and translated by Jasper Hopkins and Herbert Richardson (New York: Harper and Row, 1967). See pp. 89ft. An older, but highly readable, translation of this same work is the one by Richard McKeon. It is presented in the first volume of his Selections From Medieval Philosophers. Seepp. 150ft. 78 Barth, Anselm, pp. 9iff., 125.

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reality (et in intellectu et in re). In this context we are confronted with that which “is identical with what is real because it could not be in re had it not first existed in reality.” 79 Quite clearly, then, existence in truth is a function of being related to the outer circle. To be so related is to possess something more than mere existence in intel­ lectu', it is to exist et in intellectu et in re. The task now facing us is that of demonstrating the relevance of these observations for proving God’s general existence. At a later point in the discussion we shall attempt a somewhat similiar undertaking in connection with the analysis of Anselm’s argument for God’s special existence. It is Barth’s contention that the decisive step in the proof of Proslogion 2 occurs when the eleventh-century saint declares that if “something than which nothing greater can be thought” is said to exist only in the understanding and not in reality also, then it is not “something than which nothing greater can be thought.” This is the case because something existing both in the understanding and in reality is certainly greater than something existing in the understanding alone.80 Here we have a clear application of the doctrines of Truth and Knowledge alluded to above. The Swiss theologian expresses the matter most concisely when he writes:

If a being exists not only in knowledge but also objectively then for Anselm it must be “greater” than one existing only in knowledge, because the realm of knowledge forms the third and final level of reality, and the realm of objectivity forms the second, which is directly related to the first level, the realm of Truth itself.81 It would seem to follow from what has been said to this point that while one can quite readily conceive of God existing in solo intellectu as well as et in intellectu et in re, actually to do so is to conceive of two very different gods.82 But the God who is conceived of as existing et in intellectu et in re is definitely greater than, and superior to, the one who is conceived of as existing merely in solo intellectu.83 This means that the God who is conceived of as existing et in intellectu et in re is the true God because it is he alone who can meet the standard imposed by the formula aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit. From this line of reasoning it must be concluded 79 80 81 82 83

Ibid., p. 92. Ibid., pp. 124.11. Ibid., p. 125. Ibid., p. 126. Ibid.

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III

that God “cannot exist in knowledge as the one who merely exists in knowledge.” 84 The argument just outlined, it should be noted, does not prove God’s existence directly. It only demonstrates the validity of this one negative assertion: God’s nonexistence simply cannot be (hoc esse non potest).85 In other words, “a God who exists in solo intellectu has been proved impossible.” 86 This has been accom­ plished on the basis of the revealed Name of God functioning as a rule of thought. It is precisely such a rule which prohibits us (and the Fool) from thinking that it is possible for God to exist in the under­ standing alone. But now a certain problem arises. Even the most cursory reading of the text indicates that Anselm does not rest content with a purely negative conclusion. Indeed, he moves right on to an assertion of this positive claim: “Therefore there is absolutely no doubt that something-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought exists both in the mind and in reality.” 87 How can Barth account for this dimen­ sion of the argument without nullifying the logic of his own ingen­ ious interpretation? We shall allow him to speak for himself in this matter:

The positive statement about the genuine and extramental existence of God (in the general sense of the concept “existence”) does not stem from the proof and is in no sense derived from it but is proved by the proof only in so far as the opposite statement about God’s merely intramental existence is shown to be absurd. Where then does this positive statement come from? It was suddenly brought in with the hypothetical potest cogitari esse et in re88 and it remains now merely because it was proved that the statement to the opposite effect was absurd.89 Barth’s concern to make it perfectly clear that the positive claim enunciated by Anselm in the last sentence of Proslogion 2 is not related to the revealed Name of God in a direct manner is a method­ 84 Ibid., p. 128. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid. 87 “Existit ergo procul dubio aliquid quo maius cogitari non valet, et in intellectu et in re.” St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 102. Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 117. 88 ‘‘Si enim vel in solo intellectu est, potest cogitari esse et in re, quod maisu est.” St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 101. (The underlining has been added.) ‘‘For if it exists solely in the mind even, it can be thought to exist in reality also, which is greater.” Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s proslogion, p. 117. 89 Barth, Anselm, pp. 128-129.

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ologically consistent one. In as much as God’s gracious self­ disclosure as quo maius cogitari nequit provides us with only a rule of thought, when it comes to proving his general existence all that follows with necessity is the admission that he cannot exist merely in the understanding alone. We are simply forbidden to think otherwise. This is as far as one is allowed to proceed directly. However, indirectly it is possible to assert God’s existence et in intellectu et in re. Yet to do so is to go beyond the proof itself. This is nothing but an extrapolation, albeit a solidly based one. There­ fore, it is an acceptable declaration even though it “cannot be traced back as it originates in revelation.” 90 Any other reading of the matter would seriously violate the Swiss Theologian’s claim that the distinctive formula which serves as the starting point of An­ selm’s celebrated proof of God’s existence is a concept of strict noetic content. We have to do here with a third major implication of Barth’s carefully defined and thoroughly executed theological approach to Proslogion 2-4. When the proof of God’s special exist­ ence is discussed below we shall encounter this same theme once again: a positive claim which stretches out beyond what has been proved negatively. Before commenting further on this interesting implication, then, it might be well for us to examine the Swiss Theologian’s treatment of the first paragraph of Proslogion 3. In so doing we shall be introduced to that segment of the argument which has been so frequently ignored or misunderstood. It is Barth’s contention that while the establishing of God’s existence et in intellectu et in re is an essential step in the develop­ ment of the proof proper, it is by no means the decisive one. It is not enough merely to prove that God exists in thought as well as over against thought; intramentally as well as extramentally. To be sure, this is true existence, and as such it must certainly be possessed by God. But it is also possessed by everything else that is. Therefore, the argument is far from complete when Proslogion 2 closes. God’s unique or special existence has yet to be demonstrated. This is what the first paragraph of chapter three of the treatise under consider­ ation is intended to accomplish. In order to help clarify this rather curious distinction between God’s general and special modes of existence Barth suggests that while the former mode only supports the notion of contingent 90 Ibid., p. 129.

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existence, the latter mode actually establishes the idea of necessary existence.91 This is precisely why the conclusion reached in Pros­ logion 2 must not be heard as an appropriate note upon which to end the proving process. Indeed, taken in and by itself that conclusion has no validity whatsoever. Its sole value lies in the contribution which it makes to the main point of the narrowed-down proof of Proslogion 3.92 But this means that the sequence of reasoning set forth in Proslogion 2 cannot really bear the weight that Gaunilo and his successors attempted to foist upon it. In this regard they consistently shot wide of the mark.93 Anselm’s own Reply to his critic certainly lends strong support to Barth’s evaluation of the respective roles of Proslogion 2 and 3. While the Monk of Marmoutier launches one assault after another on the formulation peculiar to the second chapter of that famous treatise, the eleventh-century saint continually counters by restating the argument first articu­ lated in chapter three.9495 There can be little doubt, then, that this is the phase of the proof which he took to be decisive. But what is it that is being asserted in Proslogion 3, and just how does it relate to the conclusion of the previous chapter ? To prove the unique or special existence of God is to establish that he “exists in such a way (true only of him) that it is impossible for him to be conceived as not existing.” 9697 This is a notable advance on that prior demonstration of the impossibility of his existence in thought alone. That argument, it must now be observed, left God’s existence open to question on the theoretical or hypothetical level.96 Such is the status of everything that exists et in intellectu et in re.*1 To be sure, when an entity actually enjoys this mode of existence it cannot be said not to exist. However, the fact of its true existence does not necessarily exclude the possibility that its nonexistence is at least conceivable. Here is where the conclusion reached in Proslogion 2 needs to be supplemented. It is in the first paragraph of the following chapter that this occurs. At this point the concept of the existence of God is lifted “right out of 91 Ibid., pp. 132-13592 Ibid., p. 154. 93 Ibid., pp. 129h. 94 See chapters I, III, IV, V, VII, and IX of Anselm’s Reply to Gaunilo. St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 130ft. 95 Barth, Anselm, p. 132. See also pp. 134-135. 96 Ibid., p. 134. 97 Ibid., pp. 132-135. 8

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the plane of the general concept of existence.” 98 Which is to say, with this turn in the discussion God’s unique or special existence is made “the criterion of general existence.” 99 Thus, his existence in thought alone is not only deemed to be impossible, but, more than that, he cannot even be thought not to exist. This is the case because he exists as Got/.100 Barth brings this whole tortuously complex issue to a sharp focus when he writes: It is now no longer a contrast between something that exists on the one hand merely in thought and on the other hand in thought and objectively but a contrast between something that certainly exists objectively as well as in thought but yet which is conceivable as not existing and on the other hand something existing objectively and in thought but which is not conceivable as not existing. Out of the general vere esse there now rises significantly before us a vere esse whose reality has its basis neither merely subjectively nor merely subjectively and objectively but is based beyond this contrast a se, in itself.101

In this concise statement we are presented with a summary of the progression from “problematical” existence to general existence to special existence, the definitions proffered for each of these three modes of existence, and the nature of the relationship between Proslogion 2 and 3. But there are other important matters which it fails to summarize. It is to a consideration of these that we must now turn. The first such matter has to do with the claim that it is impos­ sible even to conceive of God’s nonexistence. In as much as this is precisely what the first paragraph of Proslogion 3 is intended to prove we must seek to discover just how it does so. This is an exceedingly difficult question with which to deal because it involves the notion of a limitation upon man’s cognitive faculties. Anselm gives forceful expression to this particular notion when, in re98 Ibid., p. 134. 99 Ibid., p. 155. 100 Ibid., pp. 154ft. 101 Ibid., p. 141. Speaking to the issue of the two modes of the divine existence, McGill writes: “Can general existence and special existence be two grades along a single continuum, as Barth claims, so that the God whom we first discover to exist in the same way as everything else turns out finally not to exist in the same way as everything else ? Can that which is the origin and truth of all beings also be a being, a something that exists objectively outside the mind ? The two meanings which Barth tries to put in sequence may be not only different, but contradictory.’’ (Hick and McGill, The Many-Faced Argument, p. 46).

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sponding to his critic, he declares that all those things that exist “can be thought as not existing, save that which exists to a supreme degree.” 102 What is the basis of this assertion? Surely the answer to this question must be implicit in the key formula of the treatise: aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit. This formula certainly implies the unsurpassability of the divine being. Is this why we cannot conceive his nonexistence ? We must proceed with extreme caution here because a “loaded” question has just been posed. If we try to answer it in the affirmative have we not violated the interpretative criterion previously defined by Barth, namely, that the formula being considered is “a concept of strict noetic content” ? 103 Stated otherwise, if we appeal to God’s unsurpassability as the source of the limitation presently occupying our attention are we not attempt­ ing to demonstrate his unique or special existence on the basis of a prior insight into his nature ? The proper response to these latter two questions is “no,” while the only acceptable reply to the query which prompted them is “yes.” We must now indicate why this is the case. The fact of God’s existence has already been proved as Proslogion 2 closes. This occurred when, on the basis of God’s revealed Name, it was shown that because he cannot exist in knowledge alone he must exist et in intellectu et in re. The task to be accomplished in the first paragraph of Proslogion 3, then, is that of demonstrating what it means to say that God exists in the unique or special mode belonging only to him. In this instance God’s revealed Name func­ tions to compel “in him who hears and understands it a recognition not only of the actual impossibility of the thought that God does not exist but also of the impossibility of that thought ever being con­ ceived.” 104 Here is the source of that particular human limitation mentioned above. To encounter the God whose Name is aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari possit is to realize that he is the unsur­ passable one who prohibits us from even thinking that he does not, or might not, exist. The foregoing discussion of “what ‘existence’ can and does mean when it refers to God” 105 supports faith’s assurance that he is the Creator and Sustainer of all that is. In so doing it provides us with a 102 St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 134. Charlesworth, St. Anselm’s Proslogion, p. 177. 103 Barth, Anselm, p. 75. 104 Ibid., p. 134. 105 Ibid., p. 138, n. 3.

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fitting context in which to relate the argument of the first para­ graph of Proslogion 3 to an earlier segment of our analysis. We have in mind here the insights drawn by the Swiss Theologian from Anselm’s doctrines of Truth and Knowledge. Employing the language of those insights, then, we can suggest that to speak of God’s unique or special existence is to acknowledge the fact that he resides in the outer circle which is the realm of Truth itself. Indeed, in the De Veritate it is argued that God is absolutely identical with that realm.106 Thus, when something enjoys true existence (i.e., existence et in intellectu et in re) it does so only because it is related to, or participates in, the Truth which God himself is. It would cer­ tainly seem to follow from these remarks that “the reason why there is such a thing as existence is that God exists.” 107 In other words, “with his Existence stands or falls the existence of all beings that are distinct from him.” 108 This is why the conclusion reached at the end of Proslogion 2 should not be taken as the last word on the subject at hand. In point of fact, the argument of Proslogion 3 must be given pride of place because it establishes that unique or special existence which belongs to God alone—that mode of exist­ ence which serves as the definitive criterion of existence in general. But exactly what is it that has been proved in the third chapter of the treatise being considered? Barth answers this question as follows: the impossibility of the revealed God existing in such a way that he can be conceived not to exist.109 Only this negative conclu­ sion has been directly established. However, once again, as in Proslogion 2, Anselm moves on to a positive assertion: “Therefore ‘something beyond which nothing greater can be conceived’ exists in reality in such a manner that it cannot be conceived as not existing.” 110 Yet this statement can in no wise be deduced “as a consequence from the preceding line of thought.” 111 Rather, it appears as an extrapolation from the fact that “the opposite statement about God’s existence being questioned by thinking has been proved 106 St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 196ft. 107 Barth, Anselm, p. 154. 108 Ibid., pp. 154-155109 Ibid., p. 143. 110 “Sic ergo vere est aliquid quo maius cogitari non potest, ut nec cogitari possit non esse.” St. Anselm, Opera omnia, I, 103. The translation we have used is from Barth’s own German rendering of the original Latin. Barth, Anselm, p. 143. 111 Barth, Anselm, p. 143.

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absurd.” 112 It is perfectly legitimate to proceed in this fashion, according to Barth, because by doing so the inherent logic of “an article of faith, fixed in itself as such” 113 is appropriately clarified. And that, after all, is the theologian’s proper task.114 These observations should be a sufficient indication of the fact that on Barth’s reading of the matter Anselm has no interest whatsoever in actually demonstrating God’s existence to the skeptic or the unbeliever. Rather, his approach is to allow God’s gracious demonstration of himself to illumine the path which is walked by faith in its search for understanding. The emphasis we have placed on Barth’s proclivity to read Anselm as a strict fideist who has no interest in a rationalistic effort to prove God’s existence evokes the need to consider a fourth and final implication of this remarkably fruitful interpretative stance. In meeting this need we shall be ushering the Swiss Theologian’s programmatic assault on the traditional critics of Proslogion 2-4 to its climactic conclusion. If it is the case that Anselm almost always proceeds as a theo­ logian rather than as a philosopher, and if this means that his dominant intellectual preoccupation is with faith’s search for understanding, then when we come to speak of his celebrated proof of God’s existence meticulous care must be exercised in avoiding the invidious designation “ontological argument.” 115 Quite clearly, from the Barthian perspective the eleventh-century saint has not the slightest intention of moving from concept to reality—of establishing a fact by cleverly manipulating an idea. Therefore, the Anselmian formulation shares nothing in common with the proofs of Descartes 116 and Leibniz,117 nor is it damaged in the least by Kant’s famous critique.118 112 Ibid. 113 Ibid. 114 Ibid., pp. 143-144. 115 For a discussion of what this particular designation connotes see supra, pp. 89-90, n. 10. 116 Rene Descartes, Discourse on Method, Part IV, and Meditations on First Philosophy, Meditation III and Meditation V. These works appear together in Descartes’ Philosophical Writings, selected and translated by Norman Kemp Smith. See also supra, pp. 4ft. 117 G. W. Leibniz, Monadology, para. 45. This work appears in Leibniz: Discourse on Metaphysics, Correspondence with Arnauld and Monaclology, trans, by G. R. Montgomery (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court Publishing Co., 1957)118 Barth, Anselm, p. 171. For Kant’s discussion of the ontological argu­ ment see the Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 500-507.

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In an engagingly written and appropriately appreciative review of the English translation of Barth’s study on Anselm, John Updike expresses mild shock at the Swiss Theologian’s reluctance to go all the way with his mentor.119 It is charged that while Anselm does take the leap “from existence as a concept to existence as a fact,” 120 Barth does not. In other words, the Swiss Theologian is accused of not actually allowing the argument to be ontological in nature. Such an accusation, of course, is quite justified if one blithely ignores the central point of the analysis we have been discussing throughout this chapter. Updike does appear to have grasped this point, at least in principle, but he fails to take it with a sufficient degree of seriousness. Thus, he proceeds to castigate Barth for neglecting to do the very thing he has repeatedly and emphatically said he cannot and must not do. If Updike were allowed to have his way the Anselmian proof of God’s existence would fall once again under the specter of the searing critiques of Gaunilo, Aquinas, Kant and all the others who have traditionally assaulted it with fatal logical blows. Now it may very well be that this is precisely where it belongs. To make such a judgement, however, requires an historical perspective which neither we nor Updike have professed to set forth. Our task is the admittedly modest one of determining the role of Anselm’s celebrated proof of God’s existence in the development of Barth’s distinctive theolog­ ical proposals. And with this we shall leave Updike to define his own.

C. Conclusion

Towards the end of chapter two we engaged in a rather lengthy discussion of “proof” as the aim of theology. There we discovered that if theology is really the process of faith seeking for and coming to understanding, then it is appropriate to speak of “proof” as “a particular result, namely, the polemical-apologetical result” of that process.121 Furthermore, we observed that in as much as the theological quest proceeds within a context where there is an open acceptance of the foundational importance of revelation, “proof” 119 John Updike, “Faith in Search of Understanding,” The New Yorker, October 12, 1963. This review has been included in Updike’s recently pub­ lished collection entitled Assorted Prose (New York: Fawcett World Library, 1969), pp. 212-219. 120 Updike, Assorted Prose, p. 217. 121 Barth, Anselm, p. 59. Cf., supra, pp. 74ft.

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is possible only when faith affirms the truth of the articles of the Christian Credo even while one of them is being treated as a problem for thought. We also learned that the celebrated proof of God’s existence which is set forth in Proslogion 2-4 is actually a paradig­ matic instance of the general Anselmian concern with "proving.” The purpose of the chapter we are presently concluding has been expressed as that of examining "the logic” of this innovative claim. Having brought such a purpose to fulfillment we are now in a position to summarize our findings. Barth begins by advancing the thesis that the aliquid quo nihil maius cogitari f>ossit formula with which Anselm, the believing Christian, seeks to prove the existence of the divine being is nothing other than the revealed Name of God. Moreover, it has no ontic content. Indeed, it is a noetic principle, a rule of thought, set forth as an emphatic prohibition against all attempts to conceive the non-existence of the one whose Name it is. This suggests that the eleventh-century saint was definitely not “trying to prove that God exists”; he was merely striving "to understand how such an affirmation is true.” 122 Quite clearly, then, the fundamental presupposition of the proof of Proslogion 2-4 is precisely the exist­ ence of the one who has revealed himself as "something than which nothing greater can be thought.” On the basis of this pre­ supposition (which is, in point of fact, two presuppostions, viz., the Name of God and the existence of the God so named) the argument proceeds.123 Its purpose is that of demonstrating the unthinkable­ ness of God’s non-existence. But such a purpose seems to be fulfilled only for those who believe. It is a question of faith having sought and found understanding. Thus, the existence of God, which was already credible on other grounds, has now been made intel­ ligible by careful reasoning. Yet it must not be thought that the success of this enterprise is dependent upon sheer human effort. The truth of the matter is that a prayerful attitude conditions its 122 Potter, “Karl Barth and the Ontological Argument,” p. 309. The content of this essay does not actually conform to its title. In point of fact, it is primarily devoted to a discussion of Henri Bouillard’s interpretation of the Proslogion proof—an interpretation that appears in Part II of his book, Karl Barth: Parole de Dieu et existence humaine. See pp. 141ft. For an English translation of a slightly revised version of three important sections of this work, including the Anselm material, see Henri Bouillard, The Knowledge of God, trans, by Samuel D. Femiano (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968). 123 Cf., Barth, Anselm, pp. 73-100.

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outcome. Even as faith itself is a gift of God, so also does the under­ standing in question arise as a consequence of divine illumination. It cannot be doubted, therefore, that the Proslogion proof is strictly theological in nature, and not philosophical. This implies, further­ more, that it is certainly anything but an attempt to draw existence out of an idea by means of logical analysis. There is no justification, then, for continuing to employ the term “ontological” when refer­ ring to the Anselmian argument for God’s existence. Those who do so are simply demonstrating their failure to apprehend the true import of the eleventh-century saint’s purpose in Proslogion 2-4. With these considerations in view it is not at all difficult to specify, in a rather precise way, the role of St. Anselm’s formulation of the ontological argument in the theology of Karl Barth. Our initial and most obvious observation must be that in so far as the argument is ontologically conceived it has no role to play in the Swiss Theologian’s dogmatic scheme. It cannot be otherwise if he is to avoid approaching the theological enterprise from an anthropo­ logical point of departure. Indeed, his analysis in the Fides quaerens intellectum book and his critique of Descartes discussed in the first chapter of our study serve to establish this particular insight with abundant clarity. However, because Barth holds that it is not with a merely human idea about the divine being that the proof begins, but rather with the self-attestation of God in his revelation it can and should be treated as an exemplary piece of theological thinking. The role that it plays in the third phase of his development, there­ fore, is one of high importance. Such a role is in every way identical with the one assigned to the Anselm book when we proffered an assessment of it in the closing pages of our last chapter.124 This conclusion is inescapable given the conviction that the Proslogion proof of God’s existence is to be treated as an instance of the eleventh-century saint’s general concern with “proving.” Recalling our previous remarks, then, it can be said that Barth discovered in the Anselmian attempt to prove God’s existence a path leading to the development of a consistent theological positivism. As we have already learned, such a stance requires a thoroughgoing rejection of every anthropologically orientated contribution to the dogmatic enterprise while demanding a faithful acknowledgement of revela­ tion in all its objectivity. In as much as this points to a methodolog124 See supra, pp. 830.

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ical move from reality (e.g., the self-disclosure of God) to possibility (e.g., the proof of his existence) Cartesianism in theology has been effectively overcome. Henceforth the dogmatic proposals of Karl Barth are to be uncompromisingly theocentric and evangelical.125 Given the perspective of this particular study the many and varied textual and historical criticisms of the Swiss Theologian’s treatise of 1931 are altogether adventitious to the systemic impli­ cations that we have derived from it. This is not to suggest, however, that these implications themselves are in no wise subject to critical scrutiny. Indeed, it is our intention in the next chapter to examine and evaluate two of them in an effort to demonstrate that the Barthian dogmatic scheme poses at least as many difficulties as it is designed to overcome. The two issues that we have in view are the question of natural theology and the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology. Throughout this study we have been reminded of the crucial importance of these specific areas of concern in the project of overcoming Cartesianism in theology. At this juncture, then, they must be treated separately and in some detail. 125 See supra, pp. 1-4.

CHAPTER FOUR

TWO SYSTEMIC IMPLICATIONS AND A CRITICAL EVALUATION A. Introduction

Karl Barth discovered in St. Anselm’s celebrated proof of God’s existence a clue to the means whereby the anthropological starting point for the theological enterprise might be completely and finally abandoned. For him, this discovery signaled the decisive defeat of Cartesianism in theology. Henceforth knowledge of God must not be made to depend upon a prior self-knowledge and self-understanding of man. Two important implications of this methodological victory were the rigorous rej ection of any and every form of natural theology and the emphatic exclusion of all philosophical prolego­ mena to dogmatics. The path was now clear for the development of a thoroughgoing theological positivism.1 In this chapter the two implications just mentioned will serve as the focus of our analytic concern. The basic rationale for such a procedural tactic can be simply stated. With a remarkable single­ ness of mind Barth sought to erect his imposing dogmatic edifice on the solid foundation of God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. His attempt to do so required that at every point revelation be acknowledged as both the source and the norm of Christian reflection. But an acknowledgement of this sort is possible only for one who has received the gift of faith. It would seem, therefore, that the theological enterprise must be conceived as that which is totally dependent upon the divine prerogative, even though it is 1 For a discussion of the expression “theological positivism” as it functions in this context see supra, p. 26, n. 105. It was Dietrich Bonhoeffer who first suggested that Karl Barth had “arrived at a positivism of revelation.” Letters and Papers from Prison (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1962), p. 163. However, Bonhoeffer saw this as nothing more nor less than the “restoration” of thought forms and a man­ ner of speech that belonged to a begone era, and he held that such an ap­ proach was of little or no value in our present religionless age. The interested reader is referred to the following recent treatment of this particular issue: Robert T. Osborn, “Positivism and Promise in the Theology of Karl Barth,” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology, Vol. XXV, No. 3, July 1971, pp. 283-302.

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decidedly and exclusively a human undertaking. The question of natural theology and the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology emerge as issues of indisputable signifi­ cance in precisely this context. Since the Swiss Professor’s treatment of these two issues has been shaped by his fundamental methodo­ logical stance it may reasonably be assumed that a study of this treatment will tend to reflect both the strengths and the weak­ nesses of that stance. If it does, we shall find ourselves in a favorable position to proffer a critical evaluation of the Barthian effort to throw off the burden of the Kantian heritage. It is with this hope in view that we proceed to the task at hand. B. The Question of Natural Theology

“Natural theology,” Barth informs us, “is the doctrine of a union of man with God existing outside God’s revelation in Jesus Christ. It works out the knowledge of God that is possible and real on the basis of this independent union with God, and its consequences for the whole relationship of God, world and man.” 2 Viewed from this perspective it is appropriate to speak of natural theology as a vain but “necessary undertaking in the sphere of man as such ...” 3 The undertaking is vain because God is actually hidden from “the man who refuses his grace ...” 4 All that this man can know is a god who assumes “the substance of the highest that he himself can see, choose, create and be.” 5 While a god of this sort is the fitting and proper subject of natural theology, he is certainly not God. But what can be said concerning the necessity of the undertaking in 2 C. D., II/i, 168. This definition accords with the one informing those who have the honor of holding the Gifford lectureship. Interpreting the require­ ments of Lord Gifford, Barth points out that natural theology is “a science of God, of the relations in which the world stands to Him and of the human ethics and morality resulting from the knowledge of Him. This science is to be constructed independently of all historical religions and religious bodies as a strict natural science like chemistry and astronomy ‘without reference to or reliance upon any supposed special exceptional or so-called miraculous revelation.’ ” Karl Barth, The Knowledge of God and the Service of God According to the Teaching of the Reformation. Recalling the Scottish Confession of 1560. The Gifford Lectures, delivered at the Univ, of Aberdeen in 193738, trans, by J. L. M. Haire and Ian Henderson (London: Hodder and Stoughton Publishers, 1938), p. 3. Hereafter this work will be cited as The Knowledge of God and the Service of God. 3 C. D„ II/i, 168. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid.

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question ? Barth argues that natural theology is necessary because it supports “the self-exposition and self-justification” of the being of the man who supposes that he can have knowledge of God, the world, and himself apart from the gracious self-disclosure of God in Jesus Christ.6 For such a person natural theology provides some measure of security and hope in life and death.7 This is one of the reasons why we must not strive against it. Indeed, “we ought not to want to take from him his false comfort.” 8 However, there is an even more compelling reason why we should refrain from opposing natural theology in a systematic and direct manner. Barth is convinced that any attempt to undermine an individual’s commitment to natural theology “will itself have far too much natural theology about it to be commendable.” 9 To enter into open debate with the man who espouses natural theology is to uphold the possibility, at least implicitly, that he is somehow free to renounce his attitude of “emnity against God’s grace.” 10 But this merely serves to “confirm and strengthen” his error.11 In point of fact “the only thing that can help him is that the grace of Jesus Christ Himself in its revelation comes triumphantly to him ...” 12 When this occurs he will recognize that “another kind of know­ ability of God” is illusory and untenable.13 While it is Barth’s firm judgement that natural theology must not be challenged in a systematic and direct manner, he is also per­ suaded that it should never be granted “a legitimate function in the sphere of the Church ...” 14 For within that sphere it can only be treated “as something which has been repudiated already ...” 15 This is a consequence of the fact that true Christian proclamation and theology are grounded exclusively in the objective reality of God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ.16 Quite clearly, that 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid., p. 169. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid., p. 170. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid., p. 172. 14 Ibid., p. 170. 15 Ibid. 16 Barth refers to this as “the realism of proclamation and theology.” Ibid., p. 170. For an instructive discussion of “Barth’s realism in episte­ mology” see Robert E. Cushman’s article “Barth’s Attack Upon Cartesianism and the Future in Theology,” pp. 213-214.

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which has been negated by this event cannot be taken with ultimate seriousness once again.17 Most properly, then, Christian proclama­ tion and theology can only ignore natural theology and refuse to participate in it.18 Indeed, to attribute to natural theology the "dignity and excellence of a self-established and self-assured coun­ ter-position opposed to Jesus Christ” is to grant it a status “which it has every reason to covet,” but no right to possess.19 Nevertheless, in spite of these rather serious strictures Barth has turned his attention to the question of natural theology on several different occasions.20 It is important, however, to take careful note of how and why he has done so. The particular “how” of the matter is not at all difficult to specify. Whenever the Swiss Professor has spoken about natural theology he has tended to regard it as a secondary and totally subordinate issue. That is, he has consistently refused to enter into a direct and systematic discussion of it as a phenomenon to be denied.21 Then why has he 17 C. D., II/i, 164-165. 18 Ibid., p. 170. 19 Ibid., p. 164. 20 Barth’s most impressive treatment of natural theology appears in C. D., II/i, 75-178. Of course, the Swiss Theologian’s famous Nein! to Emil Brunner is also a noteworthy contribution to the question at hand. See Natural Theology: Comprising “Nature and Grace’’ by Professor Dr. Emil Brunner and the reply “No!’’ by Dr. Karl Barth, trans, by Peter Fraenkel, with an Introduction by John Baillie (London: Geoffrey Bles, The Centenary Press, 1946), pp. 67 ff. Hereafter this work will be cited as Natural Theology. In addition, the Basel Professor’s Gifford Lectures contain a brief but pene­ trating statement regarding natural theology. See The Knowledge of God and the Service of God, pp. 3ft. 21 See C. D., II/i, 85 and Natural Theology, pp. 74-76 for examples of this refusal. In the latter context Barth responds to Emil Brunner with the fol­ lowing emphatic declaration: “For 'natural theology’ does not exist as an entity capable of becoming a separate subject within what I consider to be real theology—not even for the sake of being rejected. If one occupies oneself with real theology one can pass by so-called natural theology only as one would pass by an abyss into which it is inadvisable to step if one does not want to fall. All one can do is to turn one’s back upon it as upon the great temptation and source of error, by having nothing to do with it and by making it clear to oneself and to others from time to time why one acts that way . .. Really to reject natural theology means to refuse to admit it as a separate problem. Hence the rejection of natural theology can only be a side issue, arising when serious questions of real theology are being discussed. Real rejection of natural theology does not form part of the creed. Nor does it wish to be an exposition of the creed and of revelation. It is merely an herme­ neutical rule, forced upon the exegete by the creed (e.g. by the clause natus ex virgine) and by revelation. It is not possible to expand and compound it

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paid any attention to natural theology at all ? He has done so in order to explain both the possibility and vitality of its existence while highlighting “the dark background of a totally different theology.” 22 At this juncture it is crucial for us to take account of his efforts along these lines. i. On the possibility and vitality of natural theology

It is Barth’s contention that “all natural theology circles about the problem of the readiness of man to know God.” 23 This means that its arguments always seek, in one way or another, to establish “our knowledge of God in ourselves and our relationship to the world ...” 24 Those who endorse the enterprise of natural theology are seemingly agreed that such knowledge is both “possible and practicable, and that it vouches for its own legitimacy and necessity by its actual fulfilment.” 25 What is the dogmatic theologian’s most proper response to this claim ? First of all, he must realize that within the sphere of natural man there is an urgent need to answer the riddle of human existence, as well as that of the world.26 In so doing, man as such finds a way “to master himself and the world.” 27 This is actually “the meaning and content of life” for him.28 Quite clearly, this fact alone might be considered sufficient to account for the vitality and tenacity of the phenomenon in question. But secondly, the dogmatic theologian should come to under­ stand that when natural man discovers the meaning and content of his life in the attempt “to master himself and the world,” he inevitably tends to “regard the goal and origin of this endeavour as a first and last thing and therefore as his god.” 29 However, this is into a system of special tenets explicating and defending it. Rather does it appear necessarily, but with the same dependence as that of shade upon light, at the edge of theology as its necessary limit . . . Real rejection of natural theology can come about only in the fear of God and hence only by a com­ plete lack of interest in this matter” (pp. 75-76). 22 Barth, The Knowledge of God and the Service of God, p. 6. 23 C. D., II/i, 128-129. 24 Ibid., p. 85. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. Ibid. 28 Ibid., p. 86. 29 Ibid.

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not the God made known to us in Jesus Christ and witnessed to by Holy Scripture. It would seem, therefore, that what natural man calls “God” is nothing other than a false god.30 If it were definitely the case that the god whom man as such knows could be unquestionably identified with God as he is depicted in Holy Scripture, then natural theology would have to be given a serious hearing by those within the Church. But in terms of what criterion might an identification of this sort possibly be made? From the scriptural standpoint natural man’s concept of “God” is limited and must be sharply distinguished from the true God.31 Thus, until it is shown that natural theology is grounded in a “second revelation” which is not incompatible with the one attested in Holy Scripure it is fatuous to claim “that God, the real God, is ‘naturally’ knowable.” 32 Since this has not yet been accomplished, the vitality and tenacity of the existence of natural theology per se is completely inadequate as a demonstration of the legitimacy of the knowledge which it claims. This, too, the dogmatic theologian needs to comprehend. Nevertheless, there is abundant testimony to the fact that even within the Church itself men are still prone to seek out “a readiness of God other than that which is present in the grace of His Word and Spirit.” 33 They seem to think that there are “pedagogic and pastoral” reasons for recommending and defending “at least a sup­ plementary introduction into Christian theology of the presup­ position of a ‘natural’ knowability of God in Christian theology.” 34 The motivating concern, we are assured, is that of articulating “a common basis of conversation between the Church and the world, between faith and unbelief.” 35 Because this is clearly another argument supporting the vitality and tenacity of natural theology the question as to its appropriateness and cogency must certainly be raised. Those who attempt to defend natural theology on the grounds that it is pedagogically and pastorally beneficial do so by suggesting that there must be a “point of contact” between the Church’s 30 31 32 33 34 35

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 87. Ibid., p. 88. Ibid. Ibid.

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message and man as such, to whom it is seemingly alien.36 That “point of contact” is usually understood to be human responsibility. Most especially, the concern here is with natural man’s “responsibil36 Ibid. The question of a “point of contact” (Anknüpfungspunkt) between the Gospel and the man to whom it is to be proclaimed was an issue of central importance in the celebrated Barth-Brunner debate concerning natural theology. Brunner argued in support of the notion being discussed, and he did so on the basis of a rather interesting interpretation of the imago Dei doc­ trine. It was Brunner’s contention that we must speak of both a formal and a material element when we refer to man as a being created in the image of God. Even fallen and unregenerate man retains his humanitas. It is clear, then, that sin does not alter the fact that man as such is a creature who enjoys freedom, responsibility, and a capacity for words (Wortmachtigkeit). This is precisely the meaning of the formal imago Dei. The material image of God, however, was destroyed when man rebelliously turned away from his Creator. This element can be restored to him only through the redemptive activity of Jesus Christ appropriated in faith. Its specific content may be summarily defined as “being in the love of God who gives and who loves us first.” See Man in Revolt: A Christian Anthropology, trans, by Olive Wyon (Philadel­ phia: Westminster Press, 1947), p. 104. The “point of contact” between the Church’s message and man as such, therefore, is “the formal imago Dei, which not even the sinner has lost, the fact that man is man, the humanitas in the two meanings defined above: capacity for words and responsibility.” (Natural Theology, p. 31) Barth was firm in his rejection of the formal-material distinction. He viewed it as nothing more than an untimely revival of “the classical scheme of thought of the eighteenth century.” (Ibid., p. 112). It was his uncompro­ mising position that natural man has no "capacity for revelation” (Offen­ barungsmächtigkeit) whatsoever. Indeed, to think otherwise is to contravene the third article of the creed. Commenting further on this matter, Barth wrote: “The Holy Ghost, who proceeds from the Father and the Son and is therefore revealed and believed to be God, does not stand in need of any point of contact but that which he himself creates. Only retrospectively is it possible to reflect on the way in which he ‘makes contact’ with man, and this retrospect will ever be a retrospect upon a miracle.” See ibid., p. 121. Cf., Karl Barth, The Holy Ghost and the Christian Life, trans, by R. Birch Hoyle (London: Frederick Muller Limited, 1938), passim. Barth’s proclivity to speak of a “capacity for revelation” rather than a “capacity for words” could possibly be construed as a blatant misrepresen­ tation of Brunner’s basic intent. The fact that the Basel Professor himself later declared that God has given “Himself to man ... to be known by man, to the one who has the faculties to receive and know Him, but has no will or capacity to use these faculties” would seem to lend a measure of support to such a judgement. (C. D., IV/i, 82). Nevertheless, the fundamental issue between the two Swiss theologians is unmistakable. Barth consistently avoids what he regards as Brunner’s non-biblical apologetic directed to a “point of contact” in man. He accomplishes this by insisting that the only point of contact between God and man is Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit. (Cf., C. D., I/i, 273-274). For an insightful treatment of these matters see Paul Lehmann’s essay “Barth and Brunner: The Dilemma of the Protestant Mind,” fournal of Religion, April 1940, pp. 124-140.

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ity for the unbelief which he will perhaps oppose to the Gospel.” 37 Because he is responsible, it is contended, man as such may be addressed as one who is guilty before God. When this occurs a context is set in which it is possible to speak to him “meaningfully and intelligently of the grace of God.” 38 Thus, it is nothing less than a duty of Christian love to approach natural man in this fashion. Barth is quick to point out the rather disconcerting implications of the stance assumed by those who are wont to employ the “peda­ gogic and pastoral” argument. One of these is that Christian theol­ ogy so conceived will be forced into the embarassing predicament of having to take part in natural man’s “attempt to master himself and the world.” 39 However, it must do so in a subtly deceptive manner. If it is actually true to its pedagogic and pastoral aim Christian Those who are interested in reading a defense of the Brunnerian position regarding a “point of contact" in natural man for the hearing of the Gospel should consult Erwin Reisner’s provocative remarks in “Zwei Fragen an Karl Barth zum Problem der natürlichen Theologie,” Evangelische Theologie, Hft. io (January 1935), 396-402. 37 C. D., II/i, 88. 38 Ibid. It is entirely evident that the Basel Professor has Emil Brunner in mind when he argues in this manner. While repudiating apologetics as traditionally conceived, Brunner has consistently contended for an “eristic” approach. Thus, one is not to think of himself as a defender of the truth of the Christian faith. Rather, one’s task is that of entering into disputation with unbelief. The aim of this program of attack is to demonstrate that the opposition of the various ideologies to the biblical message is actually without persuasive force. Such is the case because it is “based upon errors, due either to the confusion of rationalism with reason, of positivism with sience, of a critical with a sceptical attitude, or out of ignorance of the real truth which the Bible contains.” See The Christian Doctrine of God, Dogmatics: Vol. I, trans, by Olive Wyon (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1950), p. 99. But this is only the negative side of a more comprehensive scheme. From a positive point of view there must be what Brunner calls “missionary theol­ ogy.” Here the concern is with the removal of those obstacles that keep the unbeliever from accepting the Christian message. This is done by addressing his questions and objections in a realistic fashion. Such a discussion leads to an illumination of the human plight apart from Jesus Christ and a dawning awareness in the unbeliever’s mind and conscience of his deep spiritual need. Thus, by beginning with “the hearer, with his need, his helplessness, his scepticism and his longing” the theologian proceeds inductively to the truth of the Gospel. (Ibid., p. 102). This whole enterprise is feasible because there is in the unbeliever a “point of contact” which makes possible a genuine hearing of the “good news” of Christian preaching. That "point of contact” is “the ‘bad’ conscience, the sense of guilt ...” of unregenerate man. See Reason and Revelation: The Christian Doctrine of Faith and Knowledge, trans, by Olive Wyon (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1946), p. 302, n. 13. 39 C. D„ II/i, 88. 9

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theology cannot seriously participate in the life-endeavor of man as such—a life-endeavor "which involves a certain ‘natural’ know­ ability of God.’’ 40 At best it can only appear to do so. The basic and underlying intention of this benevolent falsehood is said to be that of leading the man who is outside of faith to a genuine encounter with God’s revelation. It would seem, therefore, that when Christian theology proceeds in this way it is merely playing a game with natural man "in a kind of anticipation of its real task.” 41 But secondly, in so far as the theologians who follow the “peda­ gogic and pastoral” path play the game described above they lend at least tacit approval to natural man’s claim to a knowledge of God that is something other than the knowledge of him made available in Jesus Christ and Holy Scripture. This is nothing less than a dis­ service to man as such because a god knowable through “natural” means is most definitely not the God who is “Lord and Shepherd of the Church.” 42 How can this confirmation in untruth further the purpose of ushering men to the truth? How can it possibly be viewed as a legitimate preparatory measure ? The two implications we have been discussing are impressively summarized by Barth when he depicts the dilemma that serves to expose the inherent contradiction lurking near the borders of any and every form of a so-called “Christian” natural theology. He writes: As a “Christian” natural theology it must really represent and affirm the standpoint of faith. Its true objectivity to which it really wants to lead unbelief is the knowability of the real God through Himself in His revelation. But as a “natural” theology, its initial aim is to disguise this and therefore to pretend to share in the life-endeavour of natural man. It therefore thinks that it should appear to engage in the dialectic of unbelief in the expectation that here at least a preliminary decision in regard to faith can and must be reached. Therefore, as a natural theology it speaks and acts impro­ perly. And at this point—this betrays the contradiction—it is guilty of definite error, not only in regard to the subject, but now also in regard to man, in regard to the world, in regard to unbelief. And it is an error which not only injures truth but also and directly love. It is a theological error which reveals itself to be such by the fact that it is obviously a pedagogic error as well. The unbelieving man who is the partner in this conversation is not a child playing 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid., p. 90. 42 Ibid., p. 91.

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games, to whom we are in the habit of speaking down in order the more surely to raise him up. If we think we can play with him, we will get our fingers bitten. And how will that help his education ? Unbelief, and therefore ignorance of God (including a knowledge of the false gods who are the indices of the human life-endeavour undertaken in unbelief), is an active enmity against God ... If we do not meet it sincerely and with the truth, we cannot make clear to the man the truth which he hates, nor approach him with the truth of which he is deprived.43

It is undoubtedly the case, then, that Christian love demands an approach to the problem posed by natural man which is more honest and consistent than the one just characterized. Barth judges that such an approach must be capable of taking unbelief with the utmost seriousness. But this requires that faith itself, and “the real God in whom faith believes,” be accorded an equal degree of seri­ ousness.44 One can accomplish this only by upholding the truth of the knowability of God in his gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ while refusing to assume the standpoint of unbelief even for “peda­ gogic and pastoral” purposes. In other words, unbelief will be “better served if no use is made of natural theology at all.” 45 With these considerations before us, the conclusion that the “pedagogic and pastoral” appeal to natural theology is lacking in both appro­ priateness and cogency seems quite inescapable. However, there is yet a third argument that is frequently ad­ vanced as an explanation of the vitality and tenacity of natural theology. This argument is even more imposing than those we have been discussing because it strikes at the very core of Barth’s thesis that “the knowability of God is to be equated with His grace and mercy in the revelation of His Word and Spirit, is based on the witness of Holy Scripture.” 46 The challenge here raised is that “Holy Scripture itself ... constrains us to reckon with a .. . know­ ability of . . . God .. . which is not given in and with His revelation, nor bound to it.” 47 That is, the argument being advanced is that theology is required to take up another task alongside its most proper one of “expounding God’s revelation.” 48 This other task is precisely that of delineating “a knowledge about God which has 43 44 45 46 47 48

Ibid., pp. 94-95. Ibid., p. 95. Ibid., p. 97. Ibid., pp. 97-98. Ibid., p. 98. Ibid.

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its foundations elsewhere than in Scripture.” 49 Quite simply, we have to do at this juncture with the claim that “a genuine Christian natural theology” is both possible and necessary because the Bible itself so dictates.50 It is the Basel Professor’s carefully conceived and executed response to this claim that we must now consider. Barth does not hesitate to acknowledge that the Scriptures themselves seem to authorize three independent approaches to the question of the knowability of God. First of all, there is “the real prophetic-apostolic witness to God’s speaking and acting in the history of Israel and in the history of Jesus Christ.” 51 Without a doubt, this is the Bible’s central theme and dominant motif. It constitutes what might well be termed the “main line” of the biblical message.52 We have to do here with “the knowability of God in His revelation.” 53 To the right of this central witness stands “the reference to the direct confirmation by God Himself, which is in some sense the result of the direct speaking of the Holy Spirit.” 54 This approach bids us to enter into natural theology immediately and directly, quite apart from revelation.55 On the left side of “the real prophetic-apostolic witness” is to be encountered “the reference to man in the cosmos. . . ” 56 Along this line natural theology is also possible, but only mediately and indirectly.57 It could hardly be otherwise, given the fact that this approach hinges on “the confir­ mation of the witness of revelation of which man is now capable in the cosmos independently of God’s revelation.” 58 Does this mean that the Barthian rejection of natural theology in any and every form is advanced on something other than a biblical basis ? When 49 Ibid. This is an. obvious reference to Brunner’s claim that “it is the task of our theological generation to find the way back to a true theologia naturalis.” (Nature and Grace, p. 59). Barth explains that when he read these words it became clear to him that he and the Zurich Professor “were not at one.” (Ibid., p. 123). Indeed, according to his own testimony Barth’s “soul is innocent of ever even having dreamt of the idea that it was a task of our theological generation to find the way back to a ‘true theologia naturalis’ !” (Ibid., p. 70). 50 C. D., 11/1,98. 51 Ibid., p. 99. 62 Ibid., p. 102. 53 Ibid. 64 Ibid., pp. 99-100. 55 Ibid., p. 100. 66 Ibid. 57 Ibid. 58 Ibid.

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faced with this question the Basel Professor simply asks us to consider whether or not the references to the right and to the left of the central witness of the Bible actually designate independent sources of the knowability of God—whether or not they stand totally apart from the disclosure of “the grace and mercy of the divine good-pleasure” in the history of Israel and in the history of Jesus Christ.59 If they do then his dogmatic stance is not even remotely defensible. But this is precisely the issue that has yet to be settled. Barth quickly disposes of the reference on the right as a testimony to an independent source of the knowledge of God. It is pointed out that in the Bible there is no support whatsoever for the notion that men can somehow bypass God’s revelation and apprehend him immediately and directly. To be sure, the biblical writers speak openly of a certain confirmation being added to the divine self­ disclosure when it is received by human witnesses. But such a confirmation always “happens through revelation itself.” 60 By no means, then, is it to be identified “as something different and new.” 61 To think otherwise is to suppose that the Holy Spirit comes “independently, or for Himself, as immediate truth to man,” rather than “through the Son and as the Spirit of the Son, as the power in which the truth of God lays hold of man in this very mediacy, in the incarnate Son of God.” 62 No one who has a proper understanding of the doctrine of the Trinity can possibly entertain a notion of this sort with any degree of seriousness.63 If the reference on the right cannot be legitimately considered apart from the Bible’s central theme of the gracious self-disclosure of God in the histories of Israel and Jesus Christ, then what is to be said concerning the witness on the left ? Does not its preoccupation with man in the cosmos represent a genuinely independent train of thought in the biblical material ? In formulating his response to this question Barth makes it clear that he is not interested in dis­ puting the fact that the Bible does “appeal to the witness of man in 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., p. 101 61 Ibid. 62 Ibid. 63 Barth provides us with a detailed treatment of what he takes to be the proper understanding of the doctrine of the Trinity when he writes concern­ ing “The Doctrine of the Word of God.” See C. D., I/i, 339-440. Cf., Die Christliche Dogmatik, pp. 126-171.

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the cosmos.” 64 That is most emphatically not the point at issue. Rather, the matter to be discussed, is whether or not the “side line” to the left of the “main line” of the biblical message is really an independent parallel. Is it, in other words, saying something new and different ? If it is, then we have to do here with a secondary knowability of God that must be given serious consideration. Moreover, this would tend to validate the position of those who advocate the appropriateness of a Christian natural theology viewed as either a preliminary or a supplementary accessory to the theolog­ ical enterprise. The question before us, therefore, is one of high importance. The strategy employed by Barth in his attempt to arrive at a correct understanding of the Scriptural tendency to speak of the witness of man in the cosmos is that of viewing it from the per­ spective of the Bible’s predominating concern with God’s self­ manifestation in the history of his deeds. This means, of course, that the biblical “side line” is to be measured against the standard imposed by the “main line” of Holy Writ.65 The assumption under­ lying this hermeneutical endeavor is that the testimony of the Bible cannot be turned against itself.66 Indeed, if the prophetic and apostolic agents are truly witnesses “to Him who does not contra­ dict Himself,” then it must be the case that what they write can be fittingly harmonized.67 To follow the counsel of Scripture’s “main line” is to discover that “God is holy but man a sinner fallen from Him and therefore lost”; that “what takes place between God and man takes place in the free election, calling and illumination, in the undeserved justification and sanctification of man by God”; that “what unites man with God ... is, from God’s side, His grace, in which, before all, there is disclosed to man the judgement under which he stands— and from man’s side, the faith in which he bows beneath this judgement, and in so doing grasps the grace of God.” 68 Confronted with these insights, it seems ludicrous for one to suppose that it is possible for man in the cosmos to have a relationship with God “not founded by God’s election and therefore not determined by the 64 65 66 67 68

C. D., II/i, io2. Ibid., p. 103. Ibid., pp. 105-107 Ibid., p. 106. Ibid., p. 103.

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grace of God in judgement.” 69 This conclusion tends to indicate that no biblical witness is accurately apprehended if it appears to be “in­ dependent of the order of revelation.” 70 But if this is true, how are we to interpret the Scriptural concern with man in the cosmos ? According to the Basel Professor, the Bible’s “side line” can only underscore and confirm the witness of its “main line.” 71 It is with this conviction that he proceeds to an examination of the textual data. Numerous passages of Scripture are brought within the purview of Barth’s exegetical acumen. Most particularly, however, he focuses upon the Psalter, Romans 1:18 ff., and the Areopagus speech of Paul recorded in Acts 17.72 It is implied that if these texts can be shown to support the biblical “main line,” then the case for a socalled Christian natural theology will be all but devastated. While the temptation to undertake a detailed analysis of the Barthian effort in this regard must be resisted, a presentation of its most pertinent conclusions is very much in order. Whenever the prophetic and apostolic agents speak of the witness of man in the cosmos, Barth discovers, they do so because they understand this man and the place in which he resides to have been 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid., p. 107. 72 See, for example, ibid., pp. 101-102, 104-105, 107-108, m-112, 113-116, and 117-123. For a careful discussion of Acts 17 and Romans 1:18 ff. see Bertil Gärtner’s book The Areopagus Speech and Natural Revelation, trans, by Carolyn Hanney King, Acta Seminarii Neo testamen tici Upsaliensis XXI (Almqvist & Wiksells, Boktryckeri Aktiebolag, Uppsala, 1955, C. W. K. Gleerup, Lund and Ejnar Munksgaard, Copenhagen), passim. Gärtner argues that while both passages of Scripture appeal to natural revelation neither of them reflect a tendency toward thelologia naturalis. Natural revelation, according to this author, is the source of a knowledge of God to be gained from nature. He understands this to be a biblically sanctioned and supported notion. Theologia naturalis, however, seems to be an invention of Stoic philosophy. Its guiding principle is that "like is known by like.” (Ibid., p. 112). In so far as this is the case it stands opposed to the Bible’s point of view. Barth would find a great deal to commend in Gärtner’s study. Neverthe­ less, in the end he would deem it necessary to reject the rubric "natural revelation.” Indeed, according to the Basel Professor even in the Areopagus speech and in Romans 1 :i8ff. Paul has nothing in view but "the revelation of the grace of God in Jesus Christ.” (C. D., II/i, 119). For a critical review of Barth’s interpretation of Romans 1 and 2 see W. D. Davies’ book Paul and Rabbinic Judaism (London: S. P. C. K., 1955), PP- 325-328.

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“already objectively changed by the event of revelation.” 73 In other words, the biblical “side line” arises only as an echo and in the light of Scripture’s “main line.” Seeking to clarify this claim, the Basel Professor writes: The biblical witnesses point also to man in the cosmos in order to interpret the revelation of God in its necessary and compulsive direction and relation to the one to whom it is addressed; in order to characterise his existence and all that it involves, including the whole place in which he exist, as one which cannot legitimately be withdrawn from the claim of revelation, because the most real and original right under which it stands is the right which the God has over it who claims it in His revelation, and because this very fact that God is its Lord, that it belongs to God and lives in His service, is its truth and its unveiled reality .. . Everything that can be said on this [side] line means the objective otherness of man in the cosmos, which becomes audible as the echo of the Word of God, and visible as the reflection of His light. In Holy Scripture man in the cosmos is addressed upon this echo and reflection, and starting from revel­ ation he is refered back all the more surely to revelation itself.74 In tracing out the implications of this interpretative stance we are confronted with the typically Barthian insight that in a Chris­ tian context all talk of man in the cosmos requires a revelational norm. That is, talk of this sort, in order to be genuinely theological, must point beyond itself “to the One with whom God is well pleased, to the man Jesus of Nazareth, to the judgement fulfilled in Him, in the grace which man has found before God in Him.” 75 This means, of course, that unless Jesus Christ is understood to be both “the origin and future of man in the cosmos” the Bible’s “side line” has been shamefully misread.76 Indeed, the truth and reality of man and the cosmos in which he stands are either unveiled through the gracious self-disclosure of God in his Son or they remain hidden and mysterious.77 Stated a bit differently, the being of creation and that of the creature within it must be understood as being in the good­ pleasure of the Creator who is also Reconciler and Redeemer.78 Because this is a possibility “which transcends man in the cosmos in 73 74 75 76 77 78

C. D., II/i, in. Ibid. Ibid., p. 112. Ibid. Ibid., p. no. Ibid., p. 116.

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himself and as such” he is in every way totally dependent upon God’s revelation.79 It would seem, therefore, that the biblical "side line” we have been discussing is anything but an independent witness paralleling the "main line” of Holy Writ. In point of fact, if the former is not read in the light of the latter, it is completely misunderstood. Considering this conclusion, there is no reason whatsoever to enter­ tain further the notion that a cogent Christian natural theology can be erected on the foundation of a secondary knowability of God available to man in the cosmos. The theological enterprise is abso­ lutely dependent on the only knowability of God there is, namely, that which is “given in and with His revelation.” 80 From the standpoint of Holy Scripture, then, the vitality and tenacity of natural theology must be viewed as an anomaly. Within its pages we discover nothing which actually validates the efforts of those who seek "a readiness of God for man which is different from His readi­ ness in the grace of His Word and Spirit.” 81 We opened this section of our study by pointing to Barth’s contention that "all natural theology circles about the problem of the readiness of man to know God.” 82 It was entirely fitting that we should do so because here is where the discussion both begins and 79 Ibid. It should be clear by now that Barth does not accept the dis­ tinction between general and special revelation. According to his under­ standing of the matter, God discloses himself to us in the history of his deeds and nowhere else. To speak of a knowledge of God that man way derive by looking at himself in the cosmos is to be involved in illusion. More precisely, it is to be involved in an attempt at natural theology. Emil Brunner, on the other hand, is not at all convinced that general revelation and natural theology are necessary correlates. Indeed, he thinks that it is one thing to make reference to a knowledge of God in the created order that can be apprehended only by those who have already been en­ lightened by the divine self-disclosure in Jesus Christ, while it is quite another to advocate a knowledge of God that is “accessible to the heathen or to independent rational argumentation.” [Natural Theology, p. 9). If the latter is the approach of natural theology (in the subjective sense, which Brunner rejects), then the former points to what should be termed general revelation (or natural theology in the objective sense, which he accepts). [Ibid., p. 9). Thus, the Zurich Professor argues that it is possible to espouse a doctrine of general revelation which is definitely not reducible to a platform for that sort of natural theology which the Christian must properly avoid. See Reason and Revelation, p. 75 and The Christian Doctrine of God, pp. 132ft. 80 C. D., II/i, 125. 81 Ibid. 82 Ibid., pp. 128-129. See also supra, p. 126.

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ends.8384Since we have examined all but the final segment of the Basel Professor’s attempt to account for the undaunted presence of natural theology within the thought patterns of homo religiosus,M it is necessary for us to return to the contention in question. This time we shall scrutinize it rather thoroughly. Barth observes that the issue of the readiness of man to know God is a logical correlate of the problem of the knowability of the divine being. When it is supposed that God can be known apart from his gracious self-disclosure in the history of his deeds, it follows as a matter of course that man’s capacity to be open to know him must not be taken as bound by revelational considerations. That is, the readiness of man to know God must be viewed as a factor which is somehow independent of God’s readiness to make himself known. This is either the explicit or implicit assumption of all those who espouse a natural theology in any form whatever. To be sure, the advocates of Christian natural theology would undoubtedly deny that they are guilty of splitting nature and grace in such a radical fashion. Indeed, they would do so by arguing that the former is to be treated as nothing more, but also as nothing less, than a prole­ gomenon to the latter. On their understanding of the situation, then, there is a measure of continuity between nature and grace which provides the Christian with a basis for speaking meaningfully to unregenerate man about the claims of the Gospel. However, because these misguided thinkers have failed to realize that a grace placed alongside nature, or even above it, is “no longer the grace of God, but the grace which man ascribes to himself,” their carefully contrived remonstrations are totally devoid of persuasive force.85 By proceeding as though anthropology and theology are actually interchangeable terms they effectively demonstrate their intention 83 Ibid., p. 135. 84 This designation is used advisedly with the hope that it will remind the reader of Barth’s judgement that religion is “the realm of man’s attempts to justify and to sanctify himself before a capricious and arbitrary picture of God.’’ (C. D., 1/2, 280). For an analysis of “The Problem of Religion in Theology,” “Religion as Unbelief,” and “True Religion” see ibid., pp. 280-361. A recent contribution to an understanding of this particular aspect of the Swiss Theologian’s thought has been made by J. A. Veitch in his article “Revelation and Religion in the Theology of Karl Barth,” Scottish Journal of Theology, Vol. 24, No. 1 (February 1971), pp. 1-22. Veitch’s major concern is that of demonstrating “the basic homogeneity of Barth’s thinking on the relationship between Divine self-disclosure and Religion.” (Ibid., p. 1). 85 C. D., II/i, 139.

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of allowing man’s self-interpretation to set the context within which revelation is to be understood and judged.86 But is this not the central characteristic of all natural theology ? In opposition to the posture assumed by the so-called natural theologians, Christian or otherwise, Barth extends the thesis that "man’s readiness to know God is encompassed and established, delimited and determined by the readiness of God” to make himself known.87 Quite evidently, then, the Basel Professor rejects the notion that we are dealing with an independent factor here. His ef­ fort in this regard generates both a negative and a positive mode of speaking about the readiness of man for divine grace. Approaching the problem negatively first of all, Barth seeks to identify the particular elements that enter into man’s readiness. He is convinced that these elements will become clearly visible only when they are set against the background of the divine readiness. Thus, to know that the readiness of God is his grace is to grasp the truth that the readiness of man "must obviously be his readiness for grace.” 88 But what does it mean to say that man is ready for grace ? It means, most simply, that there is a certain openness on man’s part for the gracious self-disclosure of God as Creator, Recon­ ciler, and Redeemer. This openness consists in man’s “need for grace, in his knowledge of grace, and in his willingness for it.” 89 However, because man is a fallen, sinful creature who stands separated from the divine being by a great abyss which can be spanned only from the Godward side, it is necessary to recognize that none of these elements become actual in him apart from God’s action. What this implies is that “the openness of man in itself and as such” can be nothing other than a “closedness for the readiness of God.” 90 In and by himself, then, natural man is not ready to 86 In an address entitled “Das Erste Gebot als Theologische Axiom,” Barth indicates that Emil Brunner and Rudolf Bultmann are guilty of this very charge. While the one speaks of reason and revelation, the other at­ tempts to coordinate existential philosophy and the Christian message. In so doing, they both show themselves to be the true descendants of Neo-Protestantism. See pp. 310-312 of Zwischen den Zeiten XI (1933). This address was subsequently republished in Karl Barth’s Theologische Fragen und Antworten, Gesammelte Vorträge, 3. Band (Zollikon-Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag A.G, 1957). PP- 127-143. 87 C. D., II/i, 128. 88 Ibid. 89 Ibid., p. 130. 90 Ibid., p. 131.

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know the divine being. Moreover, the same thing must be said about man in the Church, about “man placed by the Word of God under judgement, but also under grace.” 91 This, to be sure, is a curious conclusion, and it requires a measure of explanation. Barth is convinced that the most concrete thing we can say about man the sinner is that he conceives of himself as “a rich man who can live without God’s grace and who can even allot it to himself.”92 This holds true even when it is acknowledged that man naturally and spontaneously becomes aware of his misery and his correspond­ ing need for grace. There is no contradiction involved here since the awareness in question is purely an abstract one which man refuses to see as having anything to do with his actual standing before God.93 What this means is that theoretically man can recog­ nize his sorry plight, but that practically he is unable to do so because of the conviction that he is strong rather than weak.94 Thus, man’s natural readiness is really no readiness at all in as much as it is completely closed to the readiness of God.95 Man as such, then, encounters only the unknowability of the divine being.96 When we turn to consider man in the Church the same obser­ vations are seen to apply. Even at this juncture “we have not arrived at the real readiness of man for God.” 97 Once again there is to be discovered a man who is “not at peace but at war with grace.” 98 How can it be otherwise when we note the truth that this man also is one who dreams of being sufficient unto himself ? To affirm grace, to preach it, teach it, and defend it does not ultimately conceal the fact of one’s basic resistance against the gift of God’s mercy.99 Such is the status of man in the Church. By way of summary it can be said that while natural man (and man in the Church is at one with him here) can theoretically recog­ nize his helpless plight and his need for divine assistance, this is nothing more than a latent power, an unrealized potential, until God chooses to actualize it. Practically speaking, then, man the 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., Ibid. Ibid.,

p. 142. Cf., ibid., p. 133. p. 130. p. 131.

p. 133.

pp. 133 and 138.

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sinner (and even man in the Church is this) is not capable of knowing God on his own, or of being open to the divine readiness to be known. Therefore, it must be concluded that the openness of man for grace is totally lacking, at least when we think of man as such and man in the Church.100 It might seem that Barth’s analysis of the negative mode of speaking about the readiness of man for God’s grace has actually taken us nowhere. This is not really the case however. In point of fact, it has set the stage for his attempt to reflect in a positive manner on the same problem. But it has accomplished something else as well. The negative conclusion just drawn reveals to us an important aspect of the fundamental source of natural theology’s vitality and tenacity. When it is fully understood that a genuine human readiness for the knowability of God in his grace is most decidedly lacking, the phenomenon of natural theology is not at all difficult to explain. Confronted with this situation, what else can man do but seek out a very different knowability of God? Indeed, there is no alternative because he “cannot and will not let himself be deprived of the fact that a readiness for God is at his disposal even apart from the grace of God.’’ 101 To do so would be to forfeit both the possibility and the reality of his existence as a self-affirming, self-sufficient being.102 Thus, man attempts to preserve himself from the specter of guilt and death and in the presence of “the offer of the Word” by striving after the truth which “can be had without the truth itself.” 103 However, since the truth itself is “the truth of God,” that which the human creature covets is unquestionably an alien truth, an anti­ truth.104 This is the sole subject of natural theology. But because man “will always be an enemy of grace and a hater and denier of 100 Playing down the distinction between what we have called the theo­ retical and the practical, Henri Bouillard contends that Barth allows for an “ontological” openness of man to God, and, because of this, for man’s “radi­ cal power” to know the divine being when he writes about “la possibility de la connaissance de Dieu.” This suggests that there are grounds for defen­ ding a type of natural knowledge of God on Barth’s own terms. And this is precisely the task which the French Theologian sets for himself. See the third volume of his Karl Barth, pp. 86-91. Cf., the section entitled “The Natural Knowledge of God as the Transcendental Condition of Faith” in Bouillard’s The Knowledge of God, pp. 24-31. 101 C. D., II/i, 135. 102 Ibid. 103 Ibid. 104 Ibid., pp. 135-136.

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his real neediness,” the enterprise in question must be viewed as one that is, and shall remain, dear to the heart of homo religiosus.1^ The example of Christian natural theology serves to illustrate the conclusion just reached. Here there is talk of a praeambula fidei that points to a knowability of God which is to be distinguished from the knowability of God in his revelation. Man in the Church speaks in this manner because he desires to “domesticate” reve­ lation by transforming it “from a question which is put to him into an answer which is given by him.” 105 106 In so doing he betrays the fact of his basic “resistance against grace”—a fact which leads him to attempt to master and control it.107 It would seem, therefore, that the possibility and vitality of natural theology is grounded in man’s persistent refusal to recognize that he is completely closed to the readiness of God to make himself known. Even the tendency within the Church to suggest that there is a natural knowledge of God available to man in the cosmos which can and should serve as a prolegomenon to theology proper is but a subtle variation on this same theme. In other words, because man as such and man in the Church are equally involved in a sinful “conflict against grace” natural theology is a lively and tenacious intellectual force.108 However, it is also one from which the circum­ spect dogmatician needs to consider himself liberated. We have already alluded to the reasons underlying this particular need.109 Nevertheless, a direct glance at the positive dimension of Barth’s treatment of the readiness of man will cause us to see them in a brighter light. Thus far we have approached the problem of the readiness of man both from an anthropological and from an ecclesiological direction. But the results of having done so are altogether negative. Indeed, the non-openness of man to the knowability of God in his grace is the only word that has been spoken to this point. Yet if such a word were truly the final one natural theology, with its attention focused on “a knowability of God distinct from the grace of God,” would have to be acknowledged as the exclusively right theology.110 Because the Basel Professor is loath to accept an alternative of this 105 106 107 108 109 110

Ibid., p. 136. Ibid., p. 139. Ibid., p. 138. Ibid., p. 142. See supra, pp. 126ft. C. D„ II/i, 143-144.

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sort he asks us to view the matter once again from still another direction—the christological. In so doing we shall learn that there is actually a readiness of man which nullifies the pathetic closedness delineated above. Barth is fully committed to the notion that “there is the inherent possibility of a man who is ready for God.” 111 But neither man as such nor man in the Church can justly claim to be this individual. Who, then, is left ? The answer, of course, is the one man who is also the grace of God itself, Jesus Christ.112 He is at once “the know­ ability of God on our side” and “the knowability of God on God’s side.” 113 Thus, it must be said that it is in and through Jesus Christ that men are ready to know God in his grace. This means that the readiness of man to know God is most definitely to be included in the readiness of God to make himself known.114 Indeed, the source and content of the former correspond in precise detail to the source and content of the latter. Therefore, it is necessary to conclude that “God is known by God and by God alone.” 115 When the Basel Professor speaks of Jesus Christ as the one individual who is ready for God he makes relevant the query as to how man is to be understood as a participant in this readiness. While a detailed treatment of such a question would lead us some distance beyond the particular concerns of our study, at least a cursory answer must be proffered here. The answer for which we seek is partially expressed in the follow­ ing declaration: ... the only begotten Son of God and therefore God Himself, who is knowable to Himself from eternity to eternity, has come in our flesh, has taken our flesh, has become the bearer of our flesh, and does not exists as God’s Son from eternity to eternity except in our flesh. Our flesh is therefore present when He knows God as the Son of the Father, when God knows Himself. In our flesh God knows Himself. Therefore in Him it is a fact that our flesh knows God Himself.116 111 Ibid., p. 147. 112 Ibid., p. 150. 113 Ibid. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid., p. 179. 116 Ibid., p. 151. Cf., C. D., IV/2, 3-6 and 20-73 for a highly illuminating christological discussion which proceeds from the Chalcedonian perspective. The teaching set forth in this context is entirely congruent with the passage just quoted and might well be referred to as an "ontological christology.’’ On the other hand, when the Swiss Theologian writes about "the Royal

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Could the matter be stated any more directly or clearly ? Because the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity, has seen fit to act as our representative by bearing our flesh “from eternity to eternity” we are mercifully granted the privilege of being full participants in his readiness to know the gracious God. In other words, his readiness is truly a readiness in our stead and on our behalf. But the passage quoted above does not relate the whole story. There is also the activity of the Holy Spirit to consider. He is the dynamic agent of our participation in that which Jesus Christ is and has already accomplished for the human race. It is the Holy Sprit, then, who makes us ready for God through Jesus Christ.117 He does this by bestowing upon us new life—the life of faith.118 Now we are ready to see Jesus Christ as the man to whom God is knowable, and ourselves as those who participate in this ability through him.119 Since it is “the Church which lives by the Holy Spirit and in faith,” and since the ones who understand themselves to be partic­ ipants in the readiness of Jesus Christ to know God live in precise­ ly this way, it certainly must be acknowledged that these persons are in the Church, that they, in point of fact, are the Church.120 From their perspective “the enmity of man against grace and there­ fore his closedness against God is not the final and proper thing to be said of man.” 121 Indeed, as they have learned to view the matter the final and proper thing to be said of man is that he has peace with God through Jesus Christ.122 Because of this they realize that there is no longer any obstacle preventing him from being open to the readiness of God in his gracious self-disclosure. The reconcilia­ tion of man with God “that took place and is eternal in . .. the Son Man” later in the same volume he approaches the christological issue from the point of view of the several New Testament accounts (especially those set forth in the Synoptic Gospels) of Jesus of Nazareth. In this instance it seems appropriate to speak of a “kerygmatic christology.” (See pp. 154-264.) Here we encounter a christology of a rather different sort. To be sure, Barth considers the one to be the dialectical counterpart of the other. Whether or not this is actually the case, however, is a question with problematic dimen­ sions. 117 C. D„ II/i, 1957. 118 Ibid., p. 158. 119 Ibid., p. 161. 120 Ibid., p. 160. 121 Ibid., p. 161. 122 Ibid.

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of God” removed them all.123 Here, then, is the truth about man which is disclosed when we look at Jesus Christ. However, it is only too evident that some men refuse to look at Jesus Christ or recognize the truth about man. They insist on re­ maining within the sphere of man as such. Thus, they are completely closed to the readiness of God to make himself known in his grace. What else can they do, therefore, but seek another knowability of God—one that does not need “grace and its revelation” ?124 These men and their quest, Barth assures us, provide the funda­ mental and final explanation of the possibility and vitality of natural theology. If it is a fact that “the validity of natural theology is the validity of man as such,” then the Christian dogmatician should definitely spurn its claims.125 Quite clearly, he has no other recourse because “in Jesus Christ there is no independent man as such.” 126 The person who knows this to be the case is really free from the error of striving after a natural and original knowledge of God. And it is he alone who is qualified to do theology within the Church.127 123 Ibid. 124 Ibid., p. 163. 125 Ibid., p. 165. 126 Ibid., p. 166. 127 The conviction just expressed is one which informs the Basel Professor’s vehement rejection of any and all attempts to articulate a Christian natural theology. Therefore, we should be more than ready to understand his im­ passioned outburst against a particular key phrase in The Dogmatic Decrees of the Vatican Council concerning the Catholic Faith and the Church of Christ. A. D. 1870. The opening sentence of the second chapter of that historic document contains these words: “The same holy Mother Church holds and teaches that God, the beginning and end of all things, may be certainly known by the natural light of human reason, by means of created things ...” See Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom with a History and Critical Notes, Vol. II: The Greek and Latin Creeds, with Translations (6th rev. ed.; New York: Harper & Brothers, Publisher, 1931), p. 240. It is Barth’s judgement that this crucial statement epitomizes Roman Catholicism’s commitment to a knowability of God apart from his revelation and to a natural and original readiness of man to know him in this way. (C.D., II/i, 79-84 and 164-165). Furthermore, he is convinced that such a stance is possible only because theologians within this tradition have tended to focus on God’s being in abstraction from, and prior to, his work and action. (Ibid., pp. 80-81). This tendency, of course, is nothing other than an expression of their preoccupation with the analogia entis doctrine. Commenting on this very point, the Basel Professor declares that the doctrine in question is grounded in “the idea of being in which God and man are always compre­ hended together, even if their relationship to being is quite different, and even if they have a quite different part in being.” (Ibid., p. 81). This implies the following: “As himself a being, man is able to know a being as such. But if this is so, then in principle he is able to know all being, even God as the incomparably real being. Therefore if God is, and if we cannot deny His being, or on the other hand, our own being and that of creation, necessarily 10

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The purpose of the preceding analysis has been to highlight the most distinctive features of Barth’s attitude towards natural theology in the third phase of his development. Having fulfilled that we must affirm His knowability apart from revelation. For it consists precisely in this analogy of being which comprehends both Him and us.” (Ibid). As we stated immediately above, Barth understands the fundamental precondition of the analogia entis doctrine to be Roman Catholicism’s tendency to view God’s being in abstraction from, and prior to, his work and action. He goes on to argue that this is a dangerous and arbitrary distortion of the biblical witness. According to the testimony of that venerable source, God is the supremely real being who is who he is as Creator, Reconciler, and Redeemer. In other words, while it speaks to us of the divine being, it does so only by speaking at the same time of the history of his creative, recon­ ciling, and redemptive deeds—of his gracious and loving involvement in the affairs of men as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. From the standpoint of the Bible, then, God’s being is disclosed precisely in and through his work and action. (Ibid., pp. 80-81). The unity of God’s being and activity, therefore, must be taken with the utmost seriousness when considering the question of his knowability. But if this is actually done, every appeal to a natural and original knowledge of him, apart from revelation, must be put aside. Barth’s final word concerning Roman Catholicism’s attempt to support a natural theology based on the analogia entis doctrine is that it is “a construct which obviously derives from an attempt to unite Yahweh and Baal, the triune God of Holy Scripture with the concept of being of Aristotelian and Stoic philosophy.” (Ibid., p. 84). In so far as this is the case, he is convinced that it has absolutely nothing to contribute to a genuinely Christian under­ standing of God. (Ibid). Gottlieb Söhngen has demonstrated that the specific interpretation of the analogia entis doctrine adumbrated in the preceding paragraphs is certainly not the only one possible. On his understanding of this doctrine, the know­ ledge of God’s being is really subordinate to that of his activity. This means that the analogia fidei must be allowed to take precedence over the analogia entis. Thus, beginning with the knowledge of God in his work and action, the theologian moves in the direction of the knowledge of God in his being. (See the two contributions by Söhngen entitled ‘‘Analogia fidei” in Catholica, 1934, Hft. 3 and 4, pp. 113-136 and pp. 176-208). Barth openly concedes that if Söhngen’s were actually the standard and prevailing interpretation of the analogia entis doctrine he would be more than willing to cease criticizing it. Since this is very far from being the case, however, his stance must remain unaltered. (C. D., II/i, 82-83. Cf., supra, pp. 84-86 and esp. n. 190 on pp. 85-86). For a brilliantly incisive discussion of Barth’s thesis that the being of God can be known only in and through his gracious and loving activity as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit see Eberhard Jüngel’s study Gottes Sein ist im Werden: Verantwortliche Rede vom Sein Gottes bei Karl Barth, Eine Paraphrase, (2nd rev. ed.; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1967). The interested reader is referred to Sebastian A. Matczak’s book Karl Barth on God: The Knowledge of the Divine Existence (New York, London, Rome and Paris: St. Paul Publications, 1962) for a critical Catholic treatment of Barth’s analysis of the position of the first Vatican Council on natural theology. See pp. 221-253.

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purpose, we must now take a hurried retrospective glance at this same issue as it appeared prior to the publication of the Anselm book in 1931. In so doing we shall be compelled to view the question of natural theology and the project of overcoming theological Cartesianism as correlative concerns. 2. Natural theology and the Barthian opposition to theological Cartesianism

As “an avowed opponent of all natural theology” Barth waged war on it throughout most of his professional career.128 This point is established with indisputable clarity when, in writing against Emil Brunner, the angry Basler declares that Ever since about 1916, when I began to recover noticeably from the effects of my theological studies and the influences of the liberal­ political pre-war theology, my opinion concerning the task of our theological generation has been this: we must learn again to under­ stand revelation as grace and grace as revelation and therefore turn away from all “true” or “false” theologia naturalis by ever making new decisions and being ever controverted anew.129 If we take this confession to be a sincere and accurate description of its author’s most basic intent, and there is every reason to suppose that we should, then how are we to account for his admittedly frequent lapses into what Brunner has termed “a true theologia naturalis” ? 130 In order to articulate anything like an adequate answer to this question it will first be necessary for us to investigate the specific nature of these reputed lapses. Barth himself singles out two notable documents in which he seemed to be engaging in a type of natural theology.131 One of them is his essay “Die Kirche und die Kultur,” while the other is the famous 1927 publication Die Christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf: Die Lehre vom Worte Gottes, Prolegomena zur christlichen Dogmatik.132 It is upon this material, then, that we must focus our attention. 128 Barth, The Knowledge of God and the Service of God, p. 6. 129 Natural Theology, p. 71. 130 For a suggestion, as to what Brunner means by “a true theologia naturalis’’ see Natural Theology, pp. 51-60. Cf., supra, pp. 128-129, n. 36, p. 129, n. 38 and p. 132, n. 49. 131 See his “Angry Introduction” in Natural Theology, p. 70. 132 The essay in question was first published in Zwischen den Zeiten, IV, 1926, 363-384. It was later included in the second volume of Barth’s collected shorter writings. This publication is entitled Die Theologie und die Kirche (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1928). The work in question subsequently

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When addressing the frequently discussed issue of the relation between Church and culture Barth is careful to define both phenom­ ena theologically, and he does so by viewing them exclusively from the perspective of God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ.133 Thus, the Swiss Professor refers to the Church as the divinely instituted community of “believing and obedient sinners whose faith and obedience live from the Word of God.” 134 Culture, on the other hand, is seen as a task imposed upon men in the world through that selfsame Word.135 Just what this task is and how it relates to the Church are matters requiring further comment. Because men in the Church have learned to see themselves in the light of the one perfect man, Jesus Christ, they are open to the problem of their own humanity—the problem of human existence. They realize that “men exist as soul and body, spirit and nature, subject and object, inwardly and outwardly, judged on the syn­ thesis of both these elements.” 136 But they also know that in actual fact men are hopelessly bifurcated—that men completely lack the unity of life which is supposed to be theirs. In other words, they understand the duality of man’s existence as a problem to be overcome. Barth goes on to claim that the problem of man’s existence is none other than the problem of culture.137 Moreover, it is this very problem that identifies the task which culture itself is. Stating the matter as straightforwardly as possible, then, it must be said that appeared in English under the title Theology and Church: Shorter Writings, 1920-1928, trans, by Louise Pettibone Smith (New York and Evanston: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1962). See pp. 334-354 for the essay "Church and Culture”. 133 In this regard Barth understands himself to be proceeding quite differently than did his friend Paul Tillich when he wrote on the same subject. See the latter’s Kirche und Kulture (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1924.) This contribution appears in English translation in Tillich’s The Interpretation of History, trans, by N. A. Rosetski and Elsa L. Talmay (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1936). For still another approach to the issue at hand see Rudolf Bultmann’s essay “Religion und Kultur,” Die Christliche Welt, XXXIV (1920), 417-421, 435-439, 450-453. A recent English translation of this article is to be found in The Beginnings of Dialectic Theology, I, ed. by James M. Robinson and trans, by Keith R. Crim and Louis De Grazia (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1968), 205-220. 134 Barth, Theology and Church, p. 336. 135 Ibid., pp. 337-339. 136 Ibid., p. 338. 137 Ibid.

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culture is the task of achieving the unity of those polar elements which set the boundaries of human life in this world.138 But in what sense is this a theological definition of the phenomenon in question ? Barth’s answer to the query just posed is simple enough. Accord­ ing to his analysis, the problem delimiting the task which culture itself is emerges as a problem only when the Word of God holds before us “the mirror of our dual existence”— the mirror that reflects our profound lack of unity.139 Without a doubt, therefore, culture implies such a lack and the consciousness of it.140 From a theological vantage point, then, culture originates precisely in the rift between what man is and what he is meant to be—a rift which cannot be perceived unless the divine light shines in its depths. Yet when this occurs it becomes all too apparent that culture also “means seeking through men and failing to find the unity of God.”141 Here is where the issue of the relation between Church and culture exposes its most crucial dimensions. To suppose that culture is able to fulfill the task so seriously set for it, is to liken it to “the tower of Babel whose top is to touch heaven.” 142 In this bit of folly the Church cannot participate. Rather, it must learn to understand culture and its proper role from three different points of view, all of which center in the one Word of God. In so doing the Church will come to a knowledge of its true relation to that phenomenon called culture. From the point of view of creation, culture appears as “the promise originally given to man of what he is to become.” 143 That promise had to do with the fulfillment, unity, and wholeness of the human creature’s life in the finite, temporal sphere.144 However, when the Fall occured man lost sight of what was in store for him. Now he experienced only lack of fulfillment, disunity, and broken­ ness. Nevertheless, the promise remained because even as a fallen creature man did not cease to belong to God. While sin may have hidden God from man, it was not able to conceal man from God. Man was still God’s man in spite of his corruption and depravity. Thus, at an appropriate moment the divine Logos, which “fills 138 139 140 141 142 143 444

Ibid., p. 337. Ibid., p. 339. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 349. Ibid., p. 341. Ibid., p. 343.

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heaven and earth” and rules “in the kingdom of nature,” became in­ carnate in Jesus Christ.145 This event made it possible for the Word of God to be heard even in a wayward created order. To be sure, that Word had always been present, but until it was revealed men were not able to apprehend it. Grace, and grace alone, served to bridge the rift which separated God and man and sundered human existence. Yet the presupposition of this manifest grace is none other than the hidden grace that all along supported man in the sea of his own sinfulness.146 Here is the foundation upon which the divine promise originally given to man rests. The Church knows this to be the case in Jesus Christ. Through him the alienation of the human creature from his Creator is disclosed as something less than the final reality. Therefore, men are presently in a position to understand that their own fragmented mode of life is likewise not final. When those who are so informed look to culture they can see in it “a witness to the promise which was given man in the begin­ ning.” 147 This means that for them the term “culture” can connote the promise in question when it is glimpsed in “the light of the eternal Logos who became flesh.” 148 And as culture reveals the struggles of men to overcome the duality of their existence it does reflect that very light. But it would be a mistake to go on to assume that God’s kingdom will dawn as a result of cultural striving. While such striving may announce the approach of that kingdom, it can do no more than this.149 As long as the Church does not slip into error here, it can ill afford to “detach itself as unconcerned with the problem and the task” of that phenomenon which is called culture.14 9a We are now prepared to observe that from the point of view of reconciliation “culture is the law in reference to which the sinner, sanctified by God, has to practise his faith and obedience.” 150 This suggests that the man who has died and risen with Jesus Christ is called to live a responsible kind of existence in the world. Having been set apart for God, he must follow the divine will.151 Since the 145 Ibid., p. 342. 146 Ibid. 147 Ibid., p. 343. 148 Ibid. 149 Ibid., p. 344. U9a Ibid., p. 343. 150 Ibid. 151 Ibid., p. 345.

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dictates of that will are contained in the promise depicted above, and since this promise defines the task of culture, it seems evident that culture itself is nothing more nor less than the canon according to which responsible life in the Church is to be measured. The content of this canon, quite simply, is the requirement to be human. Indeed, in the realm of nature as well as in the kingdom of grace “what God demands from men is called humanity.’’ 152 Thus, the goal that summons forth human cultural striving is the same one that conditions a life of faithful obedience in the Church. This is not to say that the goal in question is at all attainable. As a matter of fact, it is an ever receding one. But the new creature in Christ is not required to know that “a kingdom of peace, justice and truth is to be achieved by men’’ in order to reach toward its realization.153 In this regard he is more fortunate than his secular counterpart. In the final analysis, then, he alone is free to do his duty “wisely and boldly inside the limits set for man.” 154 Here is the second path along which the Church and culture come into contact. The reservation just introduced concerning the unattainability of culture’s goal provides us with an occasion to speak from the point of view of redemption. In this context culture is seen to be “the limit set for man, on the other side of which God himself, in fulfilment of his promise, makes all things new.” 155 The fulfillment in question is, of course, present here and now in and for faith. But faith is always uncertain and incomplete in this life. Thus, man in the Church must live in hope and expectation; he must be ever eschatologically orientated. And it is precisely redemption for which he waits. Indeed, how can it be otherwise when we apprehend the truth that “redemption is reconciliation without qualifica­ tion” ? 156 With this perspective informing him, man in the Church is well aware that human striving will not and cannot usher in the kingdom of glory.157 There is no reason, then, for man in the Church to assume that culture is anything more than a game, “an imitative and ultimately ineffective activity.” 158 Nothing that human endeavor can achieve will serve to alter this fact. Armed with these 152 153 154 155 156 157 158

Ibid., p. 346. Ibid. Ibid., p. 347. Ibid. Ibid., p. 348. Ibid., p. 347. Ibid., p. 349.

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insights, however, man in the Church must learn to play with boundless energy and enthusiasm. He is required to do so because it is his duty to lead others to share the burden of culture’s task even while he warns them that their efforts can never actually secure the fulfillment of man’s destiny. All of this is in perfect accord with the will and way of God revealed in Jesus Christ.169 At a crucial point in his development of the theme “Church and culture” Barth declares that Natural theology ... is included and brought into clear light in the theology of revelation . . .; in the reality of divine grace is included the truth of the divine creation.159 160 In what sense, then, does the essay we have been discussing indicate a lapse into “a true theologia naturalis” ? It is this particular question that we must now attempt to answer. Contrary to his best intentions, the Swiss Professor gives the impression that he is on the verge of articulating what might well be called “a proper anthropology” when he discusses culture as promise from the point of view of creation and culture as law from the point of view of reconciliation.161 In the first instance it is asserted that “sin has not so wholly destroyed God’s image in man that God’s friendship for man is now without an object, that man has ceased to be man, created and loved by God.” 162 This notion is then made to serve as a link in the chain of reasoning which illuminates the significance of the incarnation. And in terms of the analysis being considered, at least a portion of the incarnation’s significance lies in the fact that it restores to man the ability to apprehend the truth of God in the created order. When the issue of culture as law is dealt with this pivotal fact receives a measure of support. Barth begins by positing a common bond between the realms of nature and grace. That bond, of course, is genuine hu159 Ibid., pp. 353-354160 Ibid., p. 342. 161 The reference just made to "a proper anthropology” is meant to be reminiscent of Gogarten’s charge that in the dogmatic treatise of 1927 Barth failed to develop such an anthropology. (See his review “Karl Barths Dog­ matik,” p. 66). The Swiss Professor, however, was horrified by this response to his work because it convinced him that he must have been at least on the way to “a proper anthropology,” which was most definitely not his intention. (See supra, pp. 40-43). We are suggesting that a similar issue is at stake in the essay on Church and culture. 162 Barth, Theology and Church, p. 343.

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manity. This is what God requires of all men, even those who are unregenerate. Apart from Jesus Christ such a requirement is only dimly perceived, but in and through him it can be grasped with clarity. Grace has provided man with a renewed vision of the re­ sponsibility imposed upon him by nature. On a Brunnerian understanding of the matter, it could be said that Barth has seemingly rested his case on a doctrine of the formal imago Dei—on that likeness to God which man retains even in his corrupted and depraved state.163 Indeed, does he not actually employ this formal image as a basis for speaking of the possibility which underlies the reality of the divine self-disclosure in Jesus Christ ? Because this question can only be answered affirmatively, it does not appear unjust to accuse the Swiss Professor of engaging in “a true theologia naturalis.” 164 The grounds for doing so, however, have not always been sufficiently comprehended. In 1934 Emil Brunner was convinced that Barth's involvement in natural theology was undeniable because of his appeal to what could pass as a doctrine of the formal imago Dei. Thus, even when Barth scorned the Brunnerian distinction between the formal and the material aspects of the imago Dei the Professor from Zurich was not ready to concede that he and his vociferous opponent stood all that far apart.165 We wish to suggest, however, that it was precise!}/ Brunner’s insistence that Barth’s tendency to lapse into “a true theologia naturalis’’ is rooted in an implicit commitment to a doc­ 163 While debating the question of natural theology with Barth, Emil Brunner levels the charge just made against the whole of his opponent’s dogmatic scheme. (Natural Theology, pp. 55-56). 164 Having just asserted that “the whole Barthian theology rests de facto upon the doctrine of the formal imago Dei,” Brunner goes on to argue as follows: “... man’s nature as imago Dei determines that he should not speak of God except by way of human metaphor. Father, Son, Spirit, Word— these all-important concepts of Christian theology, of the message of the Bible, are concepts derived from personality. They are not set apart for this purpose from all concepts derived from nature . . ., because God . .. wants it to be so, but rather because in man God has created a being like to himself, the only being like to himself, whose likeness to him (i.e. the fact that he is a subject and a person) is not destroyed even by sin. Consequently his likeness is, in contrast to all analogies from nature, confirmed by revelation. Thus without knowing it and without wishing it, Barth himself argues in favour of theologia naturalis and of its fundamental significance in theology.” (Natural Theology, p. 55). 165 For the context of Barth’s rejection of the formal-material distinction as it relates to the imago Dei see Natural Theology, p. 112. Cf., supra, pp. 128-129, n. 36.

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trine of the formal imago Dei which prevented him from perceiving the yawning gap that actually did separate them. This suggestion receives substantial support when we ponder Brunner’s almost gleeful discovery of “the new Barth” several years after their none too friendly exchange over the question of natural theology.166 Having read the second part of the third volume of Barth’s Church Dogmatics Brunner wrote a review article in which he expressed more than mild astonishment at the anthropological developments contained therein. These developments were summarized by the Zurich Professor with freely connected Barthian quotations, as follows: “There is a human nature unaltered and unalterable even by sin” (p. 50), “a similarity between the (divine) determination of man and his human nature which can be neither lost nor destroyed” (p. 245). The creature “is not changed into something else by the Fall” (p. 330). One should not be unduly concerned "lest too little credit be left to the grace of God, if so much is conceded to human nature” (p. 333). It is wrong "to think you can exalt the grace of God more highly by representing man as a page written as badly as can be or at best not at all.” On the contrary, "we must assume some common humanity between Christian and non-Christian” (p. 336), and there­ fore "one ought not to stand up in the pulpit and denounce as down­ right bad what amid all evil is still one’s own manhood” (p. 336). There is between Greek, pagan and Christian humanity "a common bond” (p. 341) and therefore "the witch-hunt against Greek culture noticeable in our theology for decades is no good thing” (p. 341).167 Brunner then asked: “Is it Karl Barth who wrote these things ?” 168 His answer to this question is instructive: “Indeed it is: not however the Barth of 1934, but of 1948—the new Barth.” 169 This answer is certainly one to which we must respond. When they are compared with the argument of the essay on Church and culture the quotations cited by Brunner from the treatise of 1948 do not appear to be particularly innovative. Indeed, most of these things were being said by Barth in 1926. How, then, are we to account for the Zurich Professor’s failure to recognize this 166 Emil Brunner, "The New Barth: Observations on Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Man,” Scottish Journal of Theology, Vol. 4, No. 2, 1951, ppI23-I35167 Ibid., pp. 123-124. The page references are to Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, III/2, Die Lehre von der Schöpfung (Zollikon-Zurich: Evangelischer Verlag A.G., 1948). 168 Brunner, "The New Barth,” p. 124. 169 Ibid.

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fact ? It is not at all difficult to do so if we keep in mind his pro­ clivity to understand Barth’s lepudiation of the formal and material ways of speaking about the imago Dei as basic to his rejection of natural theology. Viewing the matter in this way, Brunner is forced to consider Barth’s message of 1948 as a radical departure from his outburst of 1934. We believe, therefore, that the Brunnerian under­ standing which informs this consideration needs to be challenged. To believe otherwise places us before the absurd conclusion that in 1934 the Swiss Professor openly abandoned the position which he held in 1926 only to assume it once again in 1948. Surely there must be another alternative! We are convinced that there is, and that it lies near at hand. A brief retrospective glance at the argument of the essay on Church and culture will reveal that the grounds upon which Barth turns away from natural theology are somewhat different than the ones identified by Brunner. In order to establish the validity of this claim it will be necessary to shift our attention back to the issue of the Swiss Professor’s lapse into “a true theologia naturalis” in the contribution of 1926. As we suggested above, the problem of such a lapse is to be located in the question of Barth’s employment of something like a doctrine of the formal imago Dei as the basis for speaking about the possibility which underlies the reality of the divine self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. The issue before us now is that of deciding which aspect of this methodological sequence is to be singled out as the offending element. Is it, perhaps, the formal image doctrine—the concern with that which man retains of his likeness to God in his corrupted and depraved state ? We think not. Rather, what is supportive of natural theology in the document we are discussing is the tendency to move from possibility to reality.170 Indeed, it is this move which effectively overshadows the objec­ tivity of revelation with a set of anthropological assumptions. And from a Barthian perspective, one could hardly hope to encounter a more definitive criterion for identifying “a true theologia naturalis.” The argument just advanced is impressively validated by the conclusions reached when we discussed the nature of the transition 170 Regin Prenter would undoubtedly agree with this assertion because he too is of the opinion that one of the chief characteristics of natural theology is that it proceeds from the question of possibility to that of reality. See his article “Das Problem der natürlichen Theologie bei Karl Barth,” Theologische Literaturzeitung, 1952, Nr. 10, p. 610.

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from Die Christliche Dogmatik of 1927 to Die Kirchliche Dogmatik of 1932 in the second chapter of our study1.171 There we discovered that while the Swiss Professor attempted to "derive the doctrine of the nature of the Word of God” from an analysis of the concrete situation of man as preacher and hearer of that Word in the earlier treatise, he felt constrained to reverse this procedure in the later one.172 In this way he successfully transcended the anthropological approach to the theological enterprise. Henceforth the hall mark of Barthianism was to be the move from reality to possibility, with pride of place being extended to the objectivity of revelation. The priority which belonged to the question of possibility in Die Christ­ liche Dogmatik was now a thing of the past. If it is the case that natural theology is an activity in which anthropological considerations function as “the objective possibility of the revelation of Godin his ‘Word’,” then surely Barth’s admitted lapses into “a true theologia naturalis” in the two instances we have been discussing must be understood primarily in terms of the methodological move from possibility to reality.173 This means that the formal image issue is a subsidiary one at best. The interpretative value of this conclusion is considerable and should serve to vindicate it. Barth’s commitment to the notion that man’s essential humanity was neither lost nor destroyed in the Fall is unmistakable both in the essay on Church and culture and in the dogmatic contribution of 1948. However, while the Swiss Professor would be quite willing to concede that he had been unwittingly involved in a form of natural theology on the earlier occasion, he would certainly be adverse to making the same concession with regard to the later one. This seemingly anomalous state of affairs can be explained rather easily if we remain mindful of what transpired with the writing of the book on Anselm in and around 1930. As we demonstrated in the second chapter of this study, that treatise documents the develop­ ment of Barth’s mature insight into the nature and method of the theology of the Word of God. Central to this development is the decision to subordinate all questions of possibility to the objective reality of revealed truth. Thus, instead of continuing to proceed with the dogmatic task from an anthropological starting point, the 171 See supra, pp. 40-43. 172 C. D., I/i, 143. 173 The quotation in this sentence is from Brunner’s contribution to Natural Theology. See p. 56.

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Swiss Professor learned to appeal to Holy Scripture as theology’s sole source and norm. In this way he succeeded in overcoming the noxious effects of theological Cartesianism. And one of these, of course, was the tendency to support “a true theologia naturalis.” In the Church Dogmatics, then, statements concerning reality consistently precede those having to do with possibility. When we survey the anthropological assertions of the 1948 addition to that monumental work from the perspective of this insight, it becomes clear immediately that they are fundamentally the human charac­ teristics which have become knowable in and through the one real man, Jesus Christ. It is he who is spoken of first.174 Therefore, the claims about fallen man’s capacities which were made in 1926 can now be re-introduced without the danger of lapsing into some form of natural theology. Indeed, have they not been christologically derived in a manner that is unambiguous ? That these particular claims did not arise during the famous debate of 1934 is a fact which can be accounted for without any great difficulty. What was at stake in that controversy was whether or not man in his sinful condition has a natural capacity for revelation—whether or not there is a “point of contact” between the Gospel and the fallen human creature to whom it is proclaimed.175 In defending the negative side of this question Barth was merely emphasizing man’s need for grace and his absolute dependence on the God who dis­ closes himself as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Certainly it cannot be doubted that the Swiss Professor would have assumed an identical stance in 1948 if the same question had presented itself once again. Where, then, is “the new Barth” ? We submit that 174 See, for example, the opening proposition of C. D., III/2 on p. 3. Then note the basic structure of the entire part volume. In each paragraph Jesus Christ is treated as the sole source of knowledge about man. That which results is what Barth calls “theological anthropology.” In 1932 Barth contrasted “theological anthropology” with the “proper anthropology” advocated by Gogarten. On this occasion the Swiss Professor defined the task of “theological anthropology” as that of “showing forth man’s original status integritatis, indicated in the Word of God itself and opened up in Jesus Christ, and his presently prevailing status corruptionis...” (C. D., I/i, 148). Here there is no question of starting with man, as Gogarten wished to do. Indeed, the move is from christology to anthropology. Any other approach must be rejected by the circumspect dogmatician. [Ibid.) It is quite apparent that this understanding of the matter is perfectly con­ sistent with the position defended by Barth in 1948. 175 See supra, pp. 128-129, n. 36 for a brief discussion of this particular matter.

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he is little more than a figment of the Brunnerian imagination, a chimerical construct which appeared as a consequence of the insistence that something like a formal image doctrine was of primary importance in the Barthian aversion to “a true theologia naturalis.” 176 It has been our aim to show that this insistence is really misleading. Of crucial concern when the problem of fallen man’s abilities are being discussed is the procedural matter relating to how knowledge of this sort is to be acquired. And from Barth’s point of view, unless the move is from reality to possibility every assertion that is based upon it is of dubious dogmatic significance. For this reason all conceivable varieties of natural theology must be ruled out. It should be apparent by this time that even as Barth was in­ volved in vigorous warfare with theological Cartesianism throughout most of his professional career, so also was he a long-lived adversary of natural theology in whatever form it happened to take.177 Indeed, these two objects of opposition, while not strictly identical, are essentially correlative endeavors. In each instance anthropological 176 It should be noted here that in the 1935 revision of his tract “Nature and Grace” Brunner professed “himself ready, in order to avoid further misunderstanding, to drop the term ‘natural theology’ altogether, substi­ tuting for it such a phrase as ‘the Christian doctrine of general revelation or of revelation in nature.’ ” (Natural Theology, p. 9). This is, in fact, what he tends to do in his later writings. See, for example, Reason and Revelation, p. 75 and The Christian Doctrine of God, pp. 132h. Cf., supra, p. 137, n. 79. For an extended discussion by Brunner of his concept of “general” or “original” revelation see Reason and Revelation, pp. 58-80. 177 Benkt-Erik Benktson documents and discusses Barth’s initial and continued opposition to natural theology in his study Den Naturliga Teologiens Problem Hos Karl Barth (Lund: Carl Bloms Boktryckeri A.-B., 1948). It is Benktson’s opinion that the Swiss Professor actually adopts the ap­ proach of natural theology in his attempt to overcome it. This occurs when the question of methodology is allowed to be answered from an abstract point of view in which "time and eternity, man and God” are placed over against one another as absolute opposites. See Benkt-Erik Benktson, “Zur Frage der theologischen Methode bei Karl Barth,” Theologische Literaturzeitung, 76. Jhr., Nr. 7, (July 1951). P- 392. Regin Prenter responds to Benktson’s contention by pointing out that it is not fair to the Barth who transcends his early dialectical views. The dogmatic formulations of the “later” Barth simply will not fit into the mold shaped by Benktson. The author of the Church Dogmatics is certainly no natural theo­ logian. His decision to move consistently from reality to possibility rather than from possibility to reality clearly indicates this. Therefore, it must be concluded that Benktson has advanced an argument which misses the genuine developmental significance of Barthian theology. (“Das Problem der natürlichen Theologie bei Karl Barth,” pp. 607-612).

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considerations are seen to dominate; on both sides the attempt is repeatedly made to establish dogmatic certitude in something other than God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. To be sure, the Swiss Professor was not immediately successful in his campaign to free himself from the clutches of these enemies. In fact, for a time it appeared as if he would never win release. However, in an epoch-making encounter with Anselm his bonds were broken and the way of escape was cleared. The journey along that way was then memorably recounted in an impressive magnum opus bearing the title Die Kirchliche Dogmatik. In the first chapter of our study it was pointed out that Barth’s technical proposals developed in the direction of a thoroughgoing theological positivism, and that this entailed the rigorous rejection of any and every form of natural theology and all philosophical prolegomena to dogmatics. Thus far we have examined the question of natural theology. It remains for us to proffer at least a cursory comment on the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology.

C. The Problem

of the

Relationship Between Philosophy Theology

and

Barth’s stance concerning the issue of the proper relationship between philosophy and theology is perfectly consistent with his carefully considered attitude toward the question of a theologia naturalis. Even as the circumspect Christian dogmatician is to repudiate all claims to a knowledge of God available to man apart from the divine self-disclosure in Jesus Christ, so he must also refrain from anticipating the Bible’s witness to this event “with any general metaphysics, theory of knowledge, ontology or even philosophy of religion taken as bearing upon it normatively.” 178 In the former instance as well as in the latter theology is approached from an anthropological starting point, thus denying pride of place to the revealed Word of God. Since it is precisely such an approach that the Swiss Professor wishes to discredit, every attempt at a theologia naturalis and each proposal for a philosophical prolegom­ enon to dogmatics can only be met with the same opposition. One is no more acceptable than the other. 178 Karl Barth, "On Systematic Theology,” Scottish Journal of Theology, Vol. 14, No. 3, September 1961, p. 226.

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The Barthian refusal to entertain any type of philosophical prolegomenon to dogmatics defines and delimits the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology in the influential system of thought we are presently discussing. The manner in which it does so comes to be most clearly articulated in that period which marks the transition from Die Christliche Dogmatik of 1927 to the first part of the first volume of Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, published in 1932. It was during this period that the Swiss Professor learned of the danger inherent in his timely employment of phe­ nomenological and existential modes of expression in his initial attempt to write a constructive dogmatic treatise. As we observed in another context, this danger was made manifest when two of Barth's critics, Gogarten and Siegfried, issued to the public their respective understandings (or misunderstandings) of his work.179 While it was their distinct impression that the Swiss Professor was actually attempting to erect a dogmatic edifice on the foundation of existentialist philosophy, the latter vehemently protested that this was definitely not his true intention. If it were, then he would be guilty of having readopted the line Schleiermacher-Ritschl-Herrmann with its regrettable anthropocentric approach to the theolog­ ical enterprise.180 In point of fact, Barth had meant to do nothing more than make cautious use of selected philosophical terminology for the sole purpose of expounding dogmatic themes.181182 He took this to be an acceptable method by which to proceed as long as it did not lead to the transformation of those dogmatic themes into philosophical ones. However, a close reading of the critical contri­ butions of Gogarten and Siegfried convinced the Swiss Professor that he at least seemed to be supporting precisely this kind of a transformation. He had no alternative, therefore, but to begin again and pursue a different course. One of the first steps to be taken by Barth at this juncture was that of clarifying his own position regarding the nature of the relationship between philosophy and theology. This step was definitively taken in February and March of 1929 when he delivered a series of lectures at Dortmund under the rather curious title Schicksal und Idee in der Theologie I9,2 It is to 179 See supra, pp. 40-42. 180 C. D. I/i, IX-X. 181 Ibid., p. 142. 182 These lectures first appeared in Zwischen den Zeiten, VII, 1929, 309-348. Subsequently they were included in the collection Theologische Fragen und Antworten, pp. 54-92.

TWO SYSTEMIC IMPLICATIONS AND A CRITICAL EVALUATION l6l

a brief treatment of the controlling notion of these lectures that we must now turn. Barth avers at the very outset that the contrariety “Fate and Idea” may be made to serve as an example of the several seemingly irresolvable antitheses that arise to confront man when he reflects seriously and profoundly on the world in which he finds himself.183 Philosophy strives to synthesize these antitheses. But so also does theology. To this extent, then, the two disciplines overlap. However, it is precisely this area of overlap that theology must approach with caution lest some alien ideology take it captive. Here is where the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology needs to be examined. As a human undertaking theology has no alternative but to acknowledge its dependence upon the same language and thought patterns that philosophy itself employs. This implies that when theology and philosophy attempt to carry out their respective tasks they necessarily share a common terminology and engage in what seems to be an identical dialectic. But is it not possible that this state of affairs might prove to be an occasion for ushering a Trojan horse into theology’s camp ? Is this not the very question which Luther himself had to face when he decided that the best way to fight against Erasmus was by using Erasmian weapons ? And is it not the case that the danger here involved is one of allowing our best conception of God to be transformed into a mere “idea-god” (Begriffsgott'}, a human construct, which offends against divinely disclosed truth ? 184 Because these questions can only be answered in the affirmative it must be emphasized that theology, properly conceived, actually marches along under a different banner than does philosophy. While theology is strictly bound to its own unique object, the Word of God graciously revealed, philosophy is free to move in accordance with its particular reflective concerns; while theology is nothing more nor less than faith seeking understanding, 183 Speaking of the other possible contrarieties, Barth observes: “Ich hätte an sich ebensogut sagen können: ‘Wirklichkeit und Wahrheit’ oder: ‘Natur und Geist’ oder: ‘Das Besondere und das Allgemeine’ oder: ‘Das Gegebene und das Nichtgegebene’ oder: ‘Das Gegenständliche und das Nicht-Gegenständliche’ oder: ‘Das Bedingte und das Unbedingte’ oder: ‘Sein und Denken’ oder: ‘Heteronomie und Autonomie’ oder: ‘Erfahrung und Vernunft.’ Ich hätte auch sagen können: ‘Realismus und Nominalismus’ oder: ‘Romantik und Idealismus.’ ’’ Theologische Fragen Antworten, p. 54. 184 Ibid., p. 88. Cf., Karl Barth, Credo (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1962), pp. 183-186. 11

IÖ2 TWO SYSTEMIC IMPLICATIONS AND A CRITICAL EVALUATION

philosophy is the attempt to establish a worldly wisdom. The primary element of difference between these two human enterprises, then, is none other than faith and its obedient response to God in his revelation.185 The line of demarcation between theology and philos­ ophy, therefore, is a significant one which cannot be transgressed without serious threat to the Church’s message and task.186 There can be dialogue back and forth across that line, but no passing over from one side to the other. When such a restriction is applied to the problem of theology’s dependence upon the language and thought patterns of philosophy it supports the need for theology to subor­ dinate all that it borrows from philosophy to the authoritative Word of God.187 Indeed, it must do so because "every step, no matter how small it may be, can in theology be dared only in the confidence that God let himself be found by us before we sought him.” 188 While philosophy seeks to effect a synthesis of Fate and Idea from a human point of departure, theology finds these antithetical 185 Cf., Karl Barth, Theologische Fragen und Antworten, pp. 58-59. 186 Cf., ibid., pp. 85-86. 187 Barth reiterates this very theme in a later context. He writes: “It is not really a question of replacing philosophy by a dictatorial, absolute and exclusive theology, and again discrediting philosophy as an ancilla theologiae. On the contrary, our concern is that theology itself, which in itself and apart from its object can only be the fulfillment of a human way of thought, and therefore a kind of philosophy, should not forget its hypothetical, relative and incidental character in the exposition of Scripture, or become guilty of opposing and resisting its object. It will certainly do this if it fails to heed the warnings in regard to the use of philosophy, if the use which it makes of it is dictatorial, absolute and exclusive. In face of its object, theology itself can only wish to be ancilla. That is why it cannot assign any other role to philo­ sophy. Scripture alone can be the domina.” C. D., I/2, 734-735. Cf., Barth, The Humanity of God, pp. 92-93. On the basis of this particular conviction the Swiss Professor criticized several theologians, past and present. His objection to Bultmann, for example, hinges on the fact that the Marburg scholar allows Heidegger’s brand of exis­ tentialism to shape his theology. See Karl Barth, Rudolf Bultmann. Ein Versuch, ihn zu verstehen. Theologische Studien, Heft 34 (Zurich: Evange­ lischer Verlag, 1952). This essay appears in English translation in Kerygma and Myth: A Theological Debate, Vol. II, ed. by Hans-Werner Barthsch and trans, by Reginald H. Fuller (London: S. P. C. K., 1962), pp. 83-132. Barth also carried out a polemic against G. Wobbermin and Heinrich Scholz, among others, because of their tendency to do theology from a Cartesian standpoint. See C.D., I/i, 222 ff. Again, he launched an attack on Philipp K. Marheineke and A. E. Biedermann from the perspective of their rather firm commitments to the philosophy of Hegel. See C. D., I/i, 296-297 and C. D., IV/i, 378. 188 Barth, Theologische Fragen und Antworten, p. 56.

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elements reconciled in and by that Word which has come from God to man. It is this fact which marks the abyss that divides the two enterprises in question. On theology’s side there is hope of success because of its openness to the Word of God. Thus, the human word which theology speaks may be confirmed by the miracle of divine grace.189 However, on philosophy’s side there can only be failure. In as much as philosophy is inherently earth-bound, whatever word it utters will fall short of the heights at which it is aimed. And this is precisely what we should expect, given the nature of the human condition. Describing that condition, Barth writes:

. . . our wills are not only weak created wills and weakened even more through sin, but our wills are also perverted and fundamentally incapable of knowing God and obeying him, because the similitude Dei must be given us in each moment as something new from heaven.190 On these grounds it seems appropriate to conclude that philosophy and theology are separate and distinct disciplines even though they share a common subject matter. Barth returns to the theme of a common subject matter which philosophy and theology share in an impressive essay written for his brother Heinrich’s Festschrift.1^1 The opening line of this contribu­ tion is striking: “The opposition of ‘philosophy’ and ‘theology’ is an . . . abstraction.’’ 192 Is this a new face which the Swiss Professor has put on ? At first glance it might seem so. However, as one reads further such an impression is quickly dispelled. Philosophy and theology, Barth argues, stand in a relationship of reciprocity. To be sure, those who engage in these two enterprises have their conflicts, but as “Mitmenschen’’ they are equally responsible to the whole truth about God, man and world.193 Yet it is at this juncture that a certain note of qualification must be intro­ duced. Because theology, appropriately conceived, is obedient to its Lord and open to the divine Word graciously revealed it speaks always of God and man, Creator and creation in that order—an 189 Cf., ibid., p. 60. 190 Ibid., p. 70. 191 “Philosophie und Theologie,” Philosophie und christliche Existenz. Festschrift für Heinrich Barth. Zum 70. Geburtstag am 3. Februar i960, ed. by Gerhard Huber (Basel und Stuttgart: Verlag Helbing & Lichtenhahn, i960), pp. 93-106. 192 Ibid., p. 93. 193 Ibid., pp. 93-94.

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order which it can never seek to reverse.194 Philosophy, on the other hand, is committed to a methodology that begins with man and attemps to reason toward God, that endeavors to follow a path from creation to the Creator.195 In so doing it distinguishes itself from theology in a decisive manner. For this reason it must be said that there is an unbridgeable chasm dividing philosophy and theology—a chasm which also constitutes the common boundary between them.196 Because such a chasm is there philosophy and theology should find it possible to coexist in a peaceful manner, free from the worry of mutual assault. They should even converse with, and learn from, one another. However, here we reach the outer limits of their proper relationship. While they both march boldly along quite parallel routes, the line of demarcation between them simply cannot be crossed from either side.197 Thus, if philosophy and theology are not in opposition they are at least separate and autonomous enterprises. The notion of the split between philosophy and theology that Barth articulated in 1929 and reiterated in i960 is exemplified in noteworthy fashion throughout his 1931 study of Anselm. In the pages of this pivotal document the Swiss Professor observes again and again that while philosophy derives from human discovery, theology finds its point of departure in faith. He goes on to assert that most critics of the eleventh-century saint’s so-called proof of God’s existence, including Gaunilo, St. Thomas Aquinas and Kant, have not taken this fact adequately into account. Therefore, they are in no position to understand Proslogion 2-4. Moreover, if Anselm had actually proceeded according to the method attributed to him by many of these critics, his theology would be nothing more than a pseudo-theology198 in which the priority of reality over pos­ sibility, of the concrete over the abstract, is not even partially acknowledged. But in that event he could not have illumined the byway along which Barth’s own dogmatic insights came to mature expression. At any rate, this is how the Swiss Professor interprets the situation. And whether one concurs with his interpretation or not, it is quite evident that we have here another perspective on the 194 Ibid., p. 98. 195 Ibid., pp. 99-100. 196 Ibid., pp. 102-103. 197 Ibid., p. 103. 198 For a concise appraisal of what it is that constitutes a “pseudo-theo­ logy” see ibid., pp. 99-100.

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issue of the role of St. Anselm’s formulation of the ontological ar­ gument in the development of that twentieth century phenomenon known as Barthianism. We have been treating the question of natural theology and the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology as two systemic implications of Barth’s attempt to overcome theological Cartesianism and thereby set aside the burden of the Kantian heritage. His views are now before us. At this crucial juncture, then, we must proffer a critical evaluation of them. In so doing we will be constrained to point to certain inadequacies in the Swiss Professor’s “solution” that suggest the need for still another approach to the matter at hand—an approach like the one provided by Charles Harthsorne.

D. A Critical Evaluation The contribution of Barth’s brilliant theological proposals to the climate of opinion that pervades the thought of the Church in our time cannot be gainsaid. Perhaps more than any other single individual the Swiss Professor has shaped the course of contem­ porary Christian reflection. Indeed, as one recent commentator has so aptly written:

In the history of theology Barth dominates the beginning of the twentieth century as Schleiermacher dominated the beginning of the nineteenth century. From him we date a new era in the history of Protestant theology: the theology of the twentieth century began with Karl Barth.199

Be that as it may, however, our comments must here take a critical turn. It will be our fundamental concern in the remainder of this chapter, then, to demonstrate that the Barthian alternative to the anthropocentric commitments of those who labor within the tradi­ tion of theological Cartesianism gives rise to nearly as many diffi­ culties as it was designed to circumvent. In pursuing this concern we will focus initially upon the two systemic implications treated above—namely, the question of natural theology and the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology. 199 Heinz Zahrnt, The Question of God: Protestant Theology in the Twentieth Century, trans, by R. A. Wilson (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc,. 1966), p. 15.

l66 TWO SYSTEMIC IMPLICATIONS AND A CRITICAL EVALUATION

When the Swiss Professor made the methodological decision to identify God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ as the sole source and norm of the Church’s dogmatic task, he was con­ strained to conclude that natural theology is most emphatically an illicit preoccupation within Christian circles and that philosophy and theology are ultimately disparate disciplines which can never be properly conjoined. The two facets of this monumental con­ clusion are obvious correlatives. If natural theology is to be avoided because it is a vain attempt on the part of man in the cosmos to reason towards God, then so also must philosophy, which is entirety an earth-bound enterprise, be carefully distinguished from a cir­ cumspect theology that is anchored in faith’s endeavor to under­ stand itself. In both instances the tendency to erect a dogmatic edifice by utilizing materials drawn primarily from an aspect of the life and thought of man is clearly evident. But with these inade­ quate materials one can build no more solidly than did Descartes, Kant and their successors. The only other workable option, there­ fore, is to reflect upon that which has been graciously provided by God in the event of revelation. While this is an admittedly sketchy summary of the Barthian stance, it does effectively delimit the point of entrance into our critical evaluation. i. Natural theology and Barth’s monistic interpretation of the Bible

At a crucial juncture in his rather lengthy discussion of the vitality and tenacity of natural theology the Swiss Professor seeks to demonstrate that the Bible itself rules out the possibility of an appeal to a “knowability of . . . God . . . which is not given in and with His revelation, nor bound to it.” 200 Those familiar lines of scriptural testimony that refer to a “direct speaking of the Holy Spirit” and to “man in the cosmos” are correctly understood, he contends, only when they are read from the perspective of God’s revelatory activity “in the history of Israel and in the history of Jesus Christ.” 201 Because this latter perspective actually consti­ tutes the central motif of the biblical message, which is completely unified and harmonious, every other aspect of Holy Scripture must be interpreted in its penetrating light. This means, of course, that the Bible most definitely fails to support anything like a natural theology. 200 C. D„ II/i, 98. 201 Ibid., pp. 99-100. See also supra, pp. 131ft. where the argument is dealt with in a detailed fashion.

TWO SYSTEMIC IMPLICATIONS AND A CRITICAL EVALUATION l6?

The judgement we have just reviewed rests upon two firm herme­ neutical commitments: to view Holy Scripture as "the total and normative witness’’ to God’s gracious act of self-disclosure in the person of Jesus Christ,202 and to relate everything in it—"from beginning to end and from verse to verse”—to that one momentous act.203 Taken together, these two commitments define the stand­ point of what we have chosen to term "Barth’s monistic interpre­ tation of the Bible.” Since it is precisely such an interpretation that undergirds the development of his entire dogmatic scheme—a scheme in which all forms of natural theology are consistently repudiated—it is important that we should subject it to a measure of critical scrutiny. The Swedish theologian, Gustaf Wingren, has argued convinc­ ingly that Barth, preoccupied with the problem of the knowledge of God, tends to shift the emphasis in the New Testament away from the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ to the incarnation. It is Wingren’s claim the Swiss Professor’s "anthropology determines his hermeneutics,” 204 and that his presupposition that man lacks any knowledge of God whatsoever apart from revelation forces him into "a programmatic point of view for his approach to and interpretation of scripture.” 205 Moreover, it is Wingren’s conviction that Barth’s specific program "is not in harmony with the intentions of the Bible, and that, on the contrary, it disturbs the structure and perspective of the Bible.” 206 Quite obviously, it is Wingren’s aim to attack the Swiss Professor on his own ground—namely, the biblical witness. He does so by arguing that no book in the New Testament places as central a concern on the incarnation as Barth does throughout his later dogmatic treatises. Indeed, the writers of the Christian scriptures tend to give the lion’s share of attention to the theme of the awe­ some struggle between the old and new orders in the crucifixion and resurrection. Thus, for them “Easter becomes the chief miracle, and the miracle of Christmas becomes a prerequisite for this supreme event, but not the chief event itself.” 207 Barth, however, reverses 202 Cobb, Living Options, p. 178. 203 C. D„ I/i, 131. 204 Gustaf Wingren, Theology in Conflict: Nygren-B arth-Bultmann, trans, by Eric H. Wahlstrom (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1958), p. 108. 205 Ibid., p. 109. 206 Ibid. 207 Ibid.

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this priority, and in so doing finds it impossible to deal adequately with the motif of “conflict and guilt’’ so evident in the New Testa­ ment’s pages.208 Such a reversal is due not only to the specific epistemological and anthropological assumptions previously men­ tioned, but also to the Swiss Professor’s proclivity to speak of the essential unreality of evil.209 It would seem, then, that Barth has actually imposed his own theological concerns upon the biblical material instead of allowing that material to shape those concerns. The same preoccupation with the incarnation that we have just identified is to be found lurking beneath the Swiss Professor’s interest in replacing the order “law and gospel’’ with the sequence “gospel and law.’’ 210 Since the law kills and the gospel makes alive it no longer seems pertinent to continue referring to “law and gospel’’ when “death and resurrection have lost hier position in the center of the kerygma and have been replaced by one single event: revelation, birth, God’s appearing.’’ 211 To understand this particu­ lar event as fundamentally central is to turn one’s attention to the gospel “which at the same time contains the law.’’ 212 It is in this way that one is led to think exclusively in terms of “gospel and law.” To do so, however, is to have disturbed the order of the biblical witness once again. At least this is how Wingren judges the matter. To the example of the reversal just discussed one might well add two others. When treating the nature of the relationships between Yahweh and Israel and Jesus Christ and his community in the anthropological section of the Church Dogmatics Barth advances the interesting thesis that the New Testament reaches back behind the Old Testament and discloses the truth of its history and the secret of its fulfilment.213 Thus, in point of fact the relationship between Jesus Christ and his community precedes the relationship between Yahweh and Israel so that the latter must finally be read in light 208 Ibid. 209 Ibid., p. no. 210 Barth’s most sustained discussion of this interest is set forth in an essay entitled "Gospel and Law” which appears in his collection God, Grace and Gospel, trans, by J. Strathearn McNab, ed., by T. F. Torrance and J. K. S. Reid, Scottish Journal of Theology Occasional Papers No. 8 (Edinbrugh: Oliver and Boyd, 1959), pp. 3-27. The essay in question was first published in 1935 under the title Evangelium und Gesetz in the series Theologische Existenz heute, Heft 32, Munich. 211 Wingren, Theology in Conflict, p. 110. 212 Ibid. 213 C. D., III/2, 299.

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of the former.214 Again, the same observation can be made concern­ ing the theme “Christ and Adam.” 215 Those who speak first of Adam and then of Christ have completely overlooked the need to begin with the divinely gracious disclosure of “real” man in Jesu of Nazareth, and in so doing they have simply failed to read the scriptures aright.216 Indeed, every word that the Bible contains must be studied from the perspective of that Word which was spoken by God in the incarnation. Could anything be more certain than that Barth is advocating a monistic interpretation of the biblical material ? In his admirable attempt to overcome theological Cartesianism the Swiss Professor turned from man and his thinking to God in his revelation. Seemingly, the heavy burden of the Kantian heritage had now been set aside. No longer was knowledge of God necessarily dependent upon one form or another of man’s knowledge of himself in the world. Here was nothing less than a Copernican revolution in the field of Christian dogmatics. But at this juncture the question arises as to whether or not such a revolution is entirely an unmixed blessing. In this particular subsection we have been suggesting that it is not. Indeed, we have observed that Barth’s sharply focused concentration on the incarnation as the hermeneutical key to the scriptures leads him to advance conclusions that tend to disturb their order at certain crucial points. While these disturbances are always brilliantly executed and beautiful to behold, it seems evident that they occur because the biblical witnesses are being pressed into a theological mold that is not strictly of their own design. The problematic dimension of this sort of move is that it runs directly counter to the Swiss Professor’s declared intention. One can say with considerable confidence that throughout most of his profession­ al career it was certainly not Barth’s aim to allow dogmatics to de­ 214 Ibid., pp. 299-300. 215 Barth’s most extensive discussion of this theme is to be found in his powerfully argued little book Christ and Adam: Man and Humanity in Romans 5, trans, by T. A. Smail (New York: Collier Books, 1962). This work was first publised in 1952 under the title Christus und Adam nach Römer 5 by the Evangelischer Verlag in Zollikon-Zurich. Rudolf Bultmann’s highly critical response to this study is entitled “Adam and Christ According to Romans 5” and appears in Current Issues in New Testament Interpretation'. Essays in Honor of Otto A. Piper, ed. by William Klassen and Graydon F. Snyder (New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1962), pp. 143-165. 216 Cf., C. D., III/2, 2o3ff.

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termine exegesis.217 And yet he never succeeded in persuading some of the most distinguished contemporary students of the Bible that this is not exactly what he had done.218 To this degree, then, the force of the Barthian solution to the theological issues bequethed by the nineteenth century is thereby diminished. We have seen that the notion of revelation set in opposition to man’s lack of knowledge of God apart from the event of divine self-disclosure in Jesus Christ is normative for Barth’s theology and informs his exegesis of the Bible. What follows in the remainder of this chapter is a critical attempt to draw out the consistent conse­ quences of such a stance and to expose, on that basis, what might well be termed the implicit metaphysical dimensions of the Swiss Professor’s reputed non-philosophical dogmatics. 2. The problem of the relationship betzveen philosophy and theology and Barth’s metaphysical monism

On more than one occasion we have observed that Barth’s single-minded determination to avoid entering into the dogmatic enterprise from an anthropological starting point leads him to draw a clear line of demarcation between philosophy and theology. While there can and should be dialogue across this line, under no circum­ stances is it ever to be crossed. The fundamental distinction between these two disciplines is defined by their respective sources in the word of man and in the Word of God. Unless the theologian is responsive solely to that Word which has been spoken by the divine being alone he is proceeding in a manner that is something less than circumspect. Thus, a philosophical prolegomenon to theology is not to be entertained as a legitimate preoccupation within the intel­ lectual life of the Church. To be sure, the Christian dogmatician is properly obliged to seek out "the right philosophy of the universe and of our own human life.’’ 219 However, such a philosophy cer­ tainly cannot be "derived from reflection upon the universe or upon 217 For a lucid treatment of this very theme see Herman Diem’s note­ worthy study bearing the title Dogmatics, trans, by Harold Knight (Edin­ burgh and London: Oliver and Boyd, 1959), pp. 52ft. 218 Ibid., p. 63. Cf., Bultmann’s essay "Adam and Christ According to Romans 5,” op. cit., for an illustration of this claim. Bultmann confesses that it is incomprehensible to him how Barth could possibly read Romans 5 as he attempted to do in his study of 1952. See supra, p. 169, n. 215 for the initial citation of the treatises in question. 219 C. D„ II/i, 432.

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the being of man.” 220 Rather, it can only be given to us by God’s own Word, by Jesus Christ who is our justification, sanctification, redemption and also our wisdom.221 The “right philosophy,” therefore, is the exclusive prerogative of the theologian who has been instructed by the wisdom of God in faith.222 Worldly wisdom is of no avail in this regard. But here the question arises as to whether the distinctive methodological decision just reviewed does not drive its originator into a corner from which he finds it impossible to assess critically the philosophical forces that shaped the tradition against which he has seen fit to react. It is this ques­ tion and its interesting implications that we must now explore. The following statement, found in the Swiss Professor’s treatment of “Jesus Christ the Objective Reality of Revelation,” will serve as a focal point for the investigation to be conducted in this sub­ section : The method prescribed for us by Holy Scripture not only assumes that the entelechy of man’s I-ness is not divine in nature but, on the contrary, is in contradiction to the divine nature. It also assumes that God is in no way bound to man, that His revelation is thus an act of His freedom, contradicting man’s contradiction.223

This pregnant statement places before us three basic elements that are central to Barth’s theological scheme: the being of God, the being of man which stands in contradiction to God’s being, and revelation, the gracious and free divine self-disclosure that contra­ dicts the contradiction effected by man. It also indicates that these two polar contradictions are derived from assumptions that are firmly grounded in the witness of the Bible. Taken together, these considerations lend support to the Barthian claim that the human creature is definitely alienated from the Creator, and must remain so, until the latter mercifully intervenes to rectify the situation. Gustaf Wingren finds at least one of the features of the position just sketched highly unacceptable. He asserts quite confidently that “man without means of contact with God is not the kind of man described in the biblical writings.” 224 His contention is that 220 221 222 223 224

Ibid. Ibid., pp. 432 and 439. Ibid., p. 439. C. D., I/2, 7. The italicizing is ours. Wingren, Theology in Conflict, p. 115.

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Barth has uncritically taken on the contemporary intellectual attitude which understands the question of knowledge to be “the one essential question whenever the conception of God is discussed,” and that he has read this attitude back into the Bible itself.225 But is this contemporary intellectual attitude not the very one bequeathed to our age by the famous critical philosophy of Imma­ nuel Kant ? Such a query, of course, can only be answered in the affirmative. It would seem, therefore, that the Swiss Professor has not been altogether successful in his attempt to set aside the burden of the Kantian heritage. The precise dimensions of this judgement must now be sought out. Barth is persuaded that knowledge of God and of the divine economy are impossible apart from revelation, which is synonymous with Jesus Christ. Thus, when he develops his dogmatic scheme he has no alternative but to concentrate upon this one unique episte­ mological source. A cursory glance at the Swiss Professor’s treat­ ment of the doctrines of election and creation will serve to illustrate the christological concentration just mentioned. It will also provide us with a rationale for speaking later of his metaphysical monism. What Barth sees revealed in Jesus Christ is God’s gracious elec­ tion of man. What he cannot perceive in this revelation, and here he departs from the mainstream of his Calvinist tradition, is a doctrine of non-election. Indeed, he is convinced that All the dubious features of Calvin’s doctrine [of predestination] result from the basic failing that in the last analysis he separates God and Jesus Christ, thinking that what was in the beginning with God must be sought elsewhere than in Jesus Christ.226

At this juncture, however, it is essential to note that in the Swiss Professor’s theology the question of a specifically human response to election is dismissed. It is God who graciously and freely contradicts man’s contradiction. If we wish to speak of a human response we must understand that it is “included within the act of God, that it is a predicate of God and not of man.” 227 In Jesus Christ the merciful and sovereign God elects man to unity with himself. Does the point we have been considering imply that all men are so elected ? Does it, in other words, suggest a doctrine of universal 225 Ibid., pp. 115-116. 228 C. D., II/2, in. 227 Cobb, Living Options, p. 185.

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salvation ? Barth, insists that it does not. Here he finds support in the scriptural witness. Arguing from a Pauline basis the Swiss Professor directs us to recognize the “really lost man.” 228 But how is this possible if it is only the election of man that is disclosed to us in Jesus Christ? Barth’s answer to the difficult question just posed takes a highly interesting turn. We will allow John Cobb to summa­ rize the central thrust of it for us:

In Jesus Christ, God has elected man, yet among empirical men most seem to be in a state of rejection. We cannot attribute this state of rejection to successful resistance of God’s grace. But we are also forbidden to attribute it to a decision of God to reject them. The only alternative appears to be that of denying real actuality to rejected men! And it is just this course that Barth adopts.229

Such an answer arises out of the Swiss Professor’s proclivity to see real human personhood exclusively in Jesus Christ. Because only Jesus Christ is a real person, we can be said to participate in personhood through him alone.230 Thus, personhood is established by a free act of divine predication, precluding any human agency either of predisposition or response. Apart from this free act of God, man is really nothing. Indeed, “there is no humanity outside the humanity of Jesus Christ...” 231 When Barth turns to a consideration of the doctrine of creation some of the crucial issues we have been discussing reappear with added clarity. As we have already learned, the Swiss Professor allows no place for any notion that the created order is a potential source of data offering insights into either the existence or nature of God. On the other hand, he cannot dismiss the doctrine of God’s creation of “the heavens and the earth” from Christian theology since it is clearly taught in the Bible.232 Barth develops his approach to this interesting dilemma on the basis of a sharp distinction between the fact that God’s creating activity is attested by scripture and the form that this attestation takes.233 The “form” in question, of course, is none other than Jesus Christ. Commenting on this matter, the Swiss Professor writes: 228 229 230 231 232 233

C. D., II/2, 295. Cobb, Living Options, p. 186. Cf., C. D., II/2, 450-454, 539. C. D., II/i, 284-286. C. D„ II/2, 541. C. D„ III/i, 23. Ibid.

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The whole Bible speaks figuratively and prophetically of Him, of Jesus Christ, when it speaks of creation, the Creator and the creature. If, therefore, we are rightly to understand and estimate what it says about creation, we must first see that—like everything else it says— this refers and testifies first and last to Him.234

Quite clearly, then, Jesus Christ is “the known quantity in face of which the reality and relationship of Creator and creature cannot remain hidden from us.’’ 235 Moreover, in this one “we are con­ fronted with our Creator, the Creator of all reality.’’ 236 Because a proper doctrine of the created order can be developed only in the light of God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ, Barth finds it necessary to conclude that the purpose of God in creation is nothing less than election.237 Therefore, it must be said that the truth of God’s election of man in Jesus Christ is the truth of his creation.238 This implies that apart from election man is alienated from the real purpose, meaning and actuality of both his created being and creation as such. A brief consideration of the Swiss Professor’s treatment of the problem of evil will help to illuminate this point. In as much as Barth understands creation to have no identifiable end other than election, the existence of evil cannot be attributed directly to God’s creative activity. Nor can it be said to arise out of man’s misuse of freedom.239 This follows from the fact that the human creature is definitely powerless to thwart the Creator’s sovereign and eternal purposes. It would seem, then, that the Swiss Professor must appeal either to an intractable source of evil existing overagainst the divine being, or to a thesis which denies evil any fundamentally definitive reality. Since the first alternative obviously supports what might well be termed an anti-biblical dualism, Barth has no recourse but to opt for the second one.240241 Thus, he argues that evil, in a certain sense, is unreal. Evil is unreal, according to the Swiss Professor, because it is nothingness (das Nichtige).1241 “Nothingness,” we are told, “is that from which God 234 Ibid., pp. 23-24. 235 Ibid., p. 32. 236 Ibid. 237 Ibid., p. 18. 238 Ibid., pp. 94 if. 239 C. D„ IV/i, 409-410. 240 For an instructive example of Barth’s rejection of dualistic teachings see his discussion of the views of Marcion in C. D., III/i, 334-340. 241 C. D„ IV/i, 408.

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separates Himself and in face of which He asserts Himself and exerts His positive will.” 242 It exists only in the light of the divine being’s rejection of it, and in that light alone. For this reason nothingness does not partake of the reality of God or of the reality which he imparts to the created order. In other words, nothingness has no standing in reality apart from its status as that against which God has uttered his decisive No!243 Nevertheless, it does “live” precisely because it has such a status.244 But it “lives” as a negativity overcome by God’s eternal Yes! spoken in Jesus Christ. That gracious Yes! is the ultimate word.245 The analysis just set forth should be sufficient to indicate that in Barth’s theology everything that stands in opposition to God’s reconciling activity in the person and work of Jesus Christ is really nothing. What emerged as a creaturely negation of the divine will and way has itself been negated. At least this is how the situa­ tion appears to one who has sought to make his dogmatic pronounce­ ments consistently subservient to revelation. Before we attempt to draw any conclusions from the above discussion a summary formulation of its most salient features must be proffered. As we understand the matter, there are five basic propositions that express the essence of Barth’s argument.

(i) There exists a realm of ontological positivity (being). (2) There exists a realm of ontological negativity (non-being). (3) Ontological positivity is grounded in God as expression of his positive will (creation subsumed under election). (4) Ontological negativity is grounded in God as expression of his negative will (non-election or non-determination equated with nothingness). (5) The being of God as he who says “yes” to positivity and “no” to negativity resolves the apparent dualism of being and non-being. These particular propositions relate most directly to those three basic elements, mentioned above, that are central to the Swiss Professor’s theological scheme: the being of God, the being of man which stands in contradiction to God’s being, and revelation, the 242 243 244 245

C. D., III/3, 351. Cf., ibid., pp. 302ft. Ibid., p. 352. Cf., ibid., pp. 363fr.

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gracious and free divine self-disclosure that contradicts the contra­ diction effected by man.246 Furthermore, they do so in such a way as to illuminate the implicit metaphysical dimensions of the Barthian dogmatic program. It is this latter issue that must here claim our attention. Given his solution to the problem of the relationship between philosophy and theology, the Swiss Professor would obviously wish to disclaim any involvement, either implicit or explicit, in meta­ physics. It is our contention, however, that even though his singleminded attempt to articulate an alternative to the anthropological approach to the theological enterprise led him to fix his gaze on the Word of God alone, Barth still ended up right in the midst of a metaphysical monism. If metaphysics has to do with being or with the nature of the truly real, then it seems quite undeniable that when the Swiss Professor asserts that man can know neither the reality of the divine being nor the truth of his own creaturely being apart from God’s gracious and free act of self-disclosure in Jesus Christ he is making a claim that is at least implicitly metaphysical. Further­ more, we would suggest that this dogmatic teaching is not only metaphysical, but that it moves in the direction of being mon­ istically so. What else are we to conclude when, on the basis of the claim just noted, Barth advances the remarkable thesis that the divine negation of man’s negativity establishes his positivity and elevates him to real personhood, thereby making him a predicate of deity itself ? 247 The issue raised by this rhetorical question receives strong support when we recall that in the Swiss Professor’s theolog­ ical scheme Jesus Christ is the one through whom all creaturely negativity is itself negated. Thus, in him reality is properly con­ stituted and unreality is exposed as the nothingness which it truly is. The whole created order, then, exists not apart from Jesus Christ, but in and through him.248 This concentration upon the christological defines the standpoint of Barth’s metaphysical monism. 246 See supra, p. 171. 247 Cf., Michele Federico Sciacca’s book Philosophical Trends in the Contemporary World (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1964), p. 302. Here a formulation very similar to our own is advanced. 248 Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, p. 26. Richard R. Niebuhr lends an element of support to our argument when he distinguishes Schleiermacher’s Christomorphism from Barth’s Christocentrism. He suggests that while the one informs reality the other establishes it. Thus, for Schleiermacher “Christ

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When he made revelation the foundational consideration in his theological scheme the Swiss Professor was attempting to circum­ vent the various problems bequeathed to his generation by the anthropocentric orientation of the Cartesian-Kantian tradition. Nearly all of these problems were brought to focus in the writings of Ludwig Feuerbach. According to Barth, this illustrious nineteenth­ century figure exposed the horrendous fallacy latent in the approach of his venerable predecessors by reducing God to a predicate of man.249 There seemed to be no alternative, therefore, but to begin the dog­ matic task anew by taking seriously the event of God’s gracious self-disclosure in Jesus Christ. With this event serving as his defini­ tive point of departure the Swiss Professor found it possible to announce the defeat of theological anthropocentrism. This defeat, however, was a costly one because it forced Barth to espouse a metaphysical monism in which man becomes a predicate of God. To be sure, this solution is diametrically opposed to Feuerbach’s, but it is certainly no more adequate. When an attempt to exalt man at the expense of God is countered by one that seeks to exalt God at the expense of man we can hardly be expected to feel that the question of the God-man relationship has been answered in a satisfying manner. In the first chapter of this study we discussed at some length Barth’s understanding of the nature of Kant’s pervasive influence on the course of Christian thought in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.250 There we noted that of three possible responses to the technical proposals of the Königsberg Philosopher only one seemed to avoid the error of allowing an aspect of the life of man to serve as theology’s appropriate point of departure. This, of course, is the one that came to expression in the Church Dogmatics. Accepting the Kantian critique of man’s cognitive faculties, Barth turned to revelation as the sole source of a true knowledge of God. This turn led to the drawing of a sharp line of demarcation between philosis the reformer of man’s knowledge of God and of himself.” However, on Barth’s understanding Christ is “the sole objective center of that know­ ledge.” Schleiermacher On Christ and Religion: A New Introduction (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1964), p. 212, n. 2. Niebuhr judges that “on this score, Schleiermacher is closer to, and more faithful to, Calvin than is Barth.” (Z&hZ). 249 See Barth’s “introductory essay” to Feuerbach’s The Essence of Christianity, trans, by George Eliot (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1957) p. xv. 250 See supra, pp. 23ft. 12

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ophy and theology and the consequent rejection of all philosoph­ ical prolegomena to dogmatics. Thus, from this perspective the theologian can be said to have but one obligation, and that is to be attentive to the Word of God alone. It is this distinctive methodological posture that shapes the issues we have been considering in the above paragraphs. When philosophy and theology are separated and revelation becomes the sole preoccupation of the dogmatician it seems quite evident that such a one will not feel a need to isolate and criticize the philosoph­ ical determinants of the tradition within which his own thought has developed. Indeed, he will find himself thinking that he was set free from these determinants when he chose to listen to the Word of God rather than the word of man. What he will not realize, how­ ever, is just how much they have actually conditioned his hearing. Certainly Barth’s obsession with the epistemological question is a case in point. But if this is so, then the Swiss Professor is really no more free from the burden of the Kantian heritage than were his illustrious forebearers. And, as we have attempted to show, his particular response to that heritage raises at least as many diffi­ culties as any of theirs. 3. Conclusion The difficulties just mentioned were exposed when we discussed Barth’s monistic interpretation of the Bible and his metaphysical monism. Both of these monisms have been related to the christological concentration that characterizes the Barthian theological method. Moreover, the inability of man to gain a true knowledge of God, himself and the meaningful purpose of the created order apart from revelation has been identified as the chief factor rendering such a concentration necessary. Finally, it has been pointed out that this factor was employed to undercut the anthropocentric approach to the dogmatic enterprise. But here a certain question presses itself upon us. Is the Swiss Professor’s emphasis on man’s deficient cognitive capacity any less anthropocentric in its own way than the convictions of those with whom he contends ? Is the one any less “Kantian” than the other ? We are convinced that these queries can only be answered in the negative. Furthermore, we believe that a certain amount of anthro­ pocentrism in theology is unavoidable given the fact that it is man who thinks and speaks about God and the divine economy. What is

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required, then, is a scheme that supports this insight while allowing neither God nor man to become a mere predicate of the other. It is our intention to demonstrate that the philosophical theology of Charles Hartshorne meets this requirement, and that it does so by subjecting the classical tradition within which Kant himself stood to critical rational scrutiny. Thus, the Hartshornian alternative to Barth’s dogmatic program is the topic to which we must now turn.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHARLES HARTSHORNE’S PHILOSOPHICAL THEOLOGY AS THE BASIS FOR AN ALTERNATIVE TO THE BARTHIAN DOGMATIC PROGRAM

A. Introduction The standpoint we have now earned, or recovered after many vicissitudes, is the rational possession of the natural faith that reason is not given to man in order that it shall be frustrated. The audacious dialectic of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason has stood for nigh two centuries as a monument of muscular intellectual self­ surrender—the work of a giant binding of man’s thought of the Whole in chains of insoluable paradox. This proud humility has been congenial to the scientific age just past: the time has now come to undo these chains, and with equal strength and greater clarity to move beyond the Kantian position.1

These bold and challenging words from the pen of a venerable Harvard scholar serve to characterize the attitude of a select group of modern thinkers who have felt the need to re-assess the role of reason in philosophy and theology. This need has been pressed upon them by the realization that metaphysics is a task that cannot be ignored in a milieu where progress in the sciences has rendered the tenents of an older world-view somewhat tenuous. But such a realization, obviously enough, can be implemented only if the Kantian strictures regarding man’s cognitive faculties are called into question and removed. The two men who have contributed most substantially to this critical enterprise are Alfred North Whitehead and Charles Hartshorne. While the insights of both figures are unquestionably of high importance, in this concluding chapter of an already rather lengthy study it is exclusively the thought of the latter that we wish to examine. Our aim in doing so will be twofold: a) to sketch the dimensions of the Hartshornian philosophical theology, and b) to propose it as the basis for a viable alternative to Barth’s dogmatic program. Before we can proceed 1 From William Ernest Hocking’s "Forward” to Charles Hartshorne’s book Reality as Social Process: Studies in Metaphysics and Religion (Glencoe, Illinois: The Free Press, and Boston, Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 1953), p. 12.

CHARLES HARTSHORNE’S PHILOSOPHICAL THEOLOGY

l8l

with these matters, however, the rationale underlying this twofold aim must be specified. While addressing the delicate problem of "Theological Values in Current Metaphysics’’ Hartshorne observes that whether or not theological doctrines ought to develop in indepen­ dence of metaphysics, they have not generally done so in the past. If theology is to be emancipated from metaphysical assumption and argument, this result will have to be achieved in the future; it cannot be taken over ready-made from the work of older theologians, whose writings contain many a bit of secular metaphysics and often what some of us must regard as particularly bad metaphysics. Even Barth, I suspect, is not really free from this defect.2 In view of the argument advanced in the closing pages of our last chapter the discerning suspicion just noted seems to be wellfounded.3 If it is, then the Barthian contention that Christian theology does not require a philosophical prolegomenon needs to be challenged. And why is that ? Quite clearly, this provocative query is worthy of a brief but careful consideration. It will be recalled that the Swiss Professor’s decision to deny philosophy a role in the theological enterprise was made in direct response to his desire to transcend the anthropocentric fixation of the Cartesian-Kantian tradition. This could best be accomplished, he reasoned, by turning exclusively to the Word of God. Revelation alone would then be the first and last court of appeal for the dogmatician. Do we not have here a subtle and sophisticated attempt to solve the enormously complex problem standing before us ? We do indeed. But it is also an attempt that gives a bit too much to the tradition it seeks to overcome. What else is one to conclude when Barth declares that there are only three possible ways of dealing with Kant’s technical proposals ? 4 Without pausing to rehearse our pre­ vious discussion of these ways it must be said that since each of them leaves uncontested the Königsberg Philosopher’s judgement concerning the limits of human knowing, there are sufficient grounds for concluding that those who pursue them are at least implicity committed to the metaphysical assumptions upon which the judgement in question is based. Now it is Hartshorne’s conten­ 2 Ibid., p. 129. 3 See supra, pp. lyoff. 4 See supra, pp. 23ft.

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tion that these are precisely the assumptions of classical metaphys­ ics, and as such they are fundamentally erroneous.5 More to the point, they are supportive of that “bad metaphysics’’ mentioned above.6 It might well be argued, then, that there is yet another possible way to deal with Kant’s technical proposals—a way that Barth presumably did not envisage. The approach here would be to rescind both the Kantian critical philosophy and the various methods for doing theology that derive from either an explicit or implicit acceptance of the metaphysical assumptions underlying it. What this way requires, therefore, is a thoroughgoing assault on that classical metaphysical tradition within which the Königsberg Philosopher himself belatedly stood. Anyone who has read even a portion of Hartshorne’s rather imposing corpus will recognize immediately that the way just described is the one he has chosen to follow. In so doing he has found it possible to articulate a philosoph­ ical theology in which “the most general ideas and ideals necessary to interpret life and reality’’ are firmly upheld by “a theory of divinity appealing to 'natural reason.’ ” 7 5 See, for example, Charles Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method (London: SCM Press, Ltd., 1970), pp. 39, 137, 225, 229, 277. See also Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. 42. Classical metaphysics will be characterized and criticized in a rather detailed manner further along in our discussion. See infra, pp. 183ft. At this particular juncture all we need to do is indicate that the degree of Kant’s involvement in classical metaphysics and its corresponding form of classical theism can be measured by his manifest desire to restore such categories as substance and causality after Hume had placed them in serious doubt, and by his proclivity to conceive of God as the ens realissimum, the most real being. Even while he struggled against the speculative extremes of the classi­ cal tradition, then, the Königsberg Philosopher could not bring himself to break with it completely. Indeed, because his critical philosophy seemed to resolve, in an adequate fashion, its most blatant shortcomings, he did not even feel the necessity to do so. For a clear statement of Hartshorne’s thesis that Kant is a classical theist see his Anselm’s Discovery, pp. 209, 231. 6 See supra, p. 181. 7 Charles Hartshorne, A Natural Theology for Our Time (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1967), p. x. For an illuminating treatment of the topic “A Program for Philosophical Theology” see Hartshorne, Man’s Vision of God, PP- 57-84A careful perusal of Hartshorne’s writings discloses the fact that he actually employs the designations “philosophical theology” and “natural theology” interchangeably. In both instances he means “rational theology.” More will be made of this point later in our discussion.

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Having been persuaded by the Hartshornian project of thought our conern in this chapter can only be that of presenting it as an acceptable and cogent philosophical prolegomenon to the Christian theological enterprise. Or, to state the matter somewhat more directly, our concern in this chapter is going to be that of presenting Hartshorne’s philosophical theology as the basis for a viable alterna­ tive to Barth’s dogmatic program. The attempt to fulfill such a concern, however, will require an extended discussion of neoclas­ sical metaphysics and the meaning of God, a glance at the ontolog­ ical argument revisited, and an inquiry into the possibility of a natural theology for our time. It is to these issues that we must now turn. B. Neoclassical Metaphysics and the Meaning of God

Hartshorne opens one of his most provocative books with this question: Can the idea of deity be so formulated as to preserve, perhaps even increase, its religious value, while yet avoiding the contradictions which seem inseparable from the idea as customarily defined? 8

These words challenge us with two major concerns. The one has to do with preserving and even increasing the religious value of the idea of God. The other calls attention to the importance of avoiding the contradictions inherent in the traditional formulations of the idea under discussion. Our philosopher indicates that by religious value is meant “the power to express and enhance reverence or worship on a high ethical and cultural level.’’ 9 This means that God must be conceived of in such a way that “an enlightened person may worship and serve him with whole heart and mind.’’ 10 Obviously, then, the idea of God being called for must not contain logical absurdities. That is, it must be free of those contradictory claims which Churchmen 8 Charles Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity: A Social Conception of God (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1948), p. 1. 9 Ibid. Cf., Philosophers Speak of God, ed. by Charles Hartshorne and William L. Reese (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1953), p. 1. Here we are told that God is “the supremely excellent or all-worshipful being.” 10 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. 1. For a rather exact definition of what our philosopher means by “worship” see A Natural Theology For Our Time, pp. 4-5. See also his admirable book The Logic of Perfection, p. 40.

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have incessantly excused as paradoxes.11 This is not to suggest, however, that the element of mystery is to be completely elimi­ nated. Indeed, there are certain aspects of the divine which will prove to be inaccessible to our knowledge.12 But this is no justification for unclear and uncritical thinking in the realm of philosophical theology. Hartshorne views these two concerns as related issues. If the idea of God cannot be formulated except in a contradictory way, then it has to religious value for modern man. However, it is our philoso­ pher’s conviction that the problem at hand can be solved. In other words, the idea of God can be consistently conceived, and in such fashion that its religious value will be preserved and even increased. With this goal in mind Hartshorne engages in a monumental project of thought. The result is a genuine dismantling of a large portion of the Western philosophical-theological tradition. To follow the argument is to be led into new realms of cogency and clarity. It is this writer’s considered opinion that few men have spoken so compellingly about the nature of God. Let us inspect the foundation upon which this opinion rests. Our philosopher begins with the question, 'What can most reasonably be meant by the religious term ‘God’ ? ” 13 In order to articulate an answer to this question, however, it will first be necessary to proffer a few comments regarding our Western meta­ physical heritage. At least this is how Hartshorne might attack the problem. Our philosopher advances the argument that the traditional Western ways of thinking about God, both theistically and pantheistically, have been conditioned by the predominating character of Greek metaphysics.14 Thus, what we have is “classical meta­ physics’’ with its corresponding forms of “classical theism” and “classical pantheism.” 15 It is common knowledge in learned circles 11 Concerning this issue, Hartshorne writes: “A theological paradox, it appears, is what a contradiction becomes when it is about God rather than something else, or indulged in by a theologian or a church rather than an un­ believer or a heretic.” The Divine Relativity, p. 1. 12 Hartshorne, A Natural Theology For Our Time, p. 77. See also Harts­ horne, The Logic of Perfection, p. 119. 13 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. v, “Preface to the 1964 Edition.” 14 Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 43h. See also Hartshorne and Reese, Philosophers Speak of God, pp. iff. 15 For a brief characterization of “classical theism” and "classical pan­ theism” as monopolar phenomena see Hartshorne and Reese, Philosophers Speak of God, pp. 1-2.

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that classical metaphysics is a metaphysics of being, and that substance, absoluteness and necessity are its primary concepions.16 It was against precisely this kind of metaphysics that Hume and Kant carried out their own individually unique critical assaults. But there is another metaphysical tradition of which Hume and Kant were seemingly unaware. This tradition, dimly perceived by Origen and Tertullian and more clearly visualized by Socinus, may be termed “neoclassical metaphysics.’’ 17 Within this tradition there is a commitment to the metaphysics of becoming or creativity. Here the primary conceptions are event, relativity and possibility. Substance, absoluteness and necessity are considered to be second­ ary abstractions.18 This metaphysical tradition also has its corre­ sponding theistic form of expression. It may be most generally referred to as “neoclassical theism.’’ At its most sophisticated level, however, this brand of theism has come to be known as panentheism—a way of conceiving God as “eternal-temporal conscious­ ness, knowing and including the world.’’ 19 It is Hartshorne’s judgement that if the Greek-Newtonian attitude in physics is no longer acceptable, then this same attitude in metaphysics is certainly unworthy of any further serious con­ sideration.20 Indeed, the time has come for us to turn away from metaphysics in its classical form and to embrace it fully in its neoclassical form. Until this has been done there is no possibility of adequately conceiving the meaning of God. Our task in this section will be to demonstrate just why this is the case. However, before turning to this central issue we must engage in a brief discussion of methodology as it relates to the problem at hand. Hartshorne is frank to admit that he is a philosophical rationalist, 16 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. xiii. 17 Ibid., p.x. Cf., Harthorne’s introductory essay ‘‘The Development of Process Philosophy” in Philosophers of Process, ed. by Douglas Browning (New York: Random House, 1965), pp. v-xxii. 18 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. xii. 19 Hartshorne and Reese, Philosophers Speak of God, p. 17. Even a cursory glance at the “Table of Contents” of this book should be enough to establish the validity of the above assertion that at its most sophisticated level "neo­ classical theism” may be termed "panentheism”. Any of the views giving recognition to the primary importance of becoming, event, relativity and possibility are properly designated "neoclassical”. However, not all of these are panentheistic in the strict sense of that word. Only in the modern period do we confront this phenomenon in a fully developed form. 20 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p.x.

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albeit a chastened one. That is, he adheres to "a rationalism which has earnestly striven to learn what it could from modern empiricism and modern logic.” 21 Now this assertion harbors some very inter­ esting methodological implications. But no attempt to indicate just what they are can be made until we have widened our per­ spective on the specific standpoint of neoclassical metaphysics. As a convinced Whiteheadian our philosopher is committed to the notion of an event pluralism in which realism and idealism are effectively synthesized. Event pluralism is the doctrine that reality is a social process in which temporal units of experience succeed each other in a creative pattern of emergent novelty.22 This doctrine is rooted in the following four theses: i. An “object,” or that of which a particular subject is aware, in no degree depends upon that subject. 2. A “subject,” or whatever is aware of anything, always depends upon the entities of which it is aware, its objects. 3. Any entity must be (or at least be destined to become) object for some subject or other. 4. Any concrete entity is a subject, or set of subjects; hence, any other concrete entity of which a subject, Si, is aware, is another subject or subjects (S2; or S2, S3, etc.).23 Theses (1) and (2), the principles of Objective Independence and Subjective Dependence respectively, are peculiar to “realism”; theses (3) and (4), the principles of Universal Objectivity and Universal Subjectivity respectively, constitute the outlook of “idealism,” on the one hand, and “panpsychism,” on the other hand. Taken together they define a stance which Hartshorne has appropriately chosen to designate “realistic idealism.” 24 The principles just enumerated support the view that every object was a subject and every subject will itself become an object.25 Since a “subject” is “anything that can be said to be aware of (know or feel or intuit) anything,” it seems clear that an “object” is nothing other than a datum for such an awareness (knowing or 21 Ibid., p. viii. 22 For a detailed discussion of this doctrine see Hartshorne’s treatment of “Events, Individuals and Predication: A Defense of Event Pluralism” in Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 173-204. 23 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, p. 70. 24 Ibid., p. 73. 25 In Alfred North Whitehead’s philosophy this view is known as “re­ formed subjectivism.” See Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1929), p. 290.

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feeling or intuiting).26 However, an object is by no means dependent on the subject that knows it. Yet, that it will be known by one subject or another is implied in its status as object. Thus, what we have here is a realistic epistemology combined with an idealistic ontology.27 Hartshorne’s panpsychic thesis arises out of his conviction that an ultimate dualism of mind and matter runs counter to experience. Concerning this issue, he writes:

. .. reflection upon experience, if sufficiently attentive, careful, and dispassionate, will convince anyone (a) that an ultimate dualism of mind and mere matter is an absurdity, and (b) that a monism of mere matter is only the same dualism in disguise, since no one can effectively think that there is no such thing as thinking (or know by experience that there is no such thing as experience) while he per­ fectly well can think that there is no such thing as mere matter, wholly devoid of feeling or awareness. Moreover, sensory experience, the source of our empirical knowledge, does not exhibit mere “dead matter’’ . . .28

If there is no legitimate basis for assuming the existence of purely “dead matter,” then it would seem to follow that “everything is psychic or, at least, has a psychic aspect.” 29 Indeed, in this world, our philosopher reasons, “the insentient, dead, and mechanical is secondary to, or even a mere appearance or special case of, the sentient, living, and social.” 30 Given the metaphysical viewpoint just described, it is not at all 26 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, p. 69. 27 Ibid. 28 See the “Comment by Professor Charles Hartshorne’’ in Eugene H. Peters’ book The Creative Advance: An Introduction to Process Philosophy as a Context for Christian Faith (St. Louis, Missouri: The Bethany Press, 1966), p. 135. Here our philosopher indicates that he has come to prefer the term “psychicalism” rather than the designation “panpsychism.’’ One of Hartshorne’s earliest published defenses of the panpsychic thesis appears in his first book The Philosophy and Psychology of Sensation (Chi­ cago: The University of Chicago Press, 1934), pp. 263-266 and passim. This book was reissued in 1968 by Kennikat Press, Inc., Port Washington, New York. Another significant discussion of panpsychism is presented in the chapter on “Mind and Matter” in Hartshorne’s second book Beyond Human­ ism: Essays in the Philosophy of Nature (Chicago: Willett, Clark & Co., 1937), pp. 165-193. This book was reprinted in 1968 by the University of Nebraska Press in Lincoln. Finally we must mention Hartshorne’s fine article “Pan­ psychism” in A History of Philosophical Systems, ed. by Vergilius Ferm (Patterson, New Jersey: Littlefield, Adams & Co., 1965), pp. 442-453. 29 Ferm, A History of Philosophical Systems, p. 442. 30 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, pp. 132-133.

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difficult to understand Hartshorne’s claim that the most fully concrete entity in the structure of things is that single unit of experience known as an event. When events arrange themselves socially they form individuals and groups, and it is in this way that reality takes shape. Events, individuals and groups, then, constitute the various existential levels of what is. And, according to our philosopher, these are existential levels that can be distinguished from one another, even though they are interdependent. Indeed, on each level it it possible to identify certain abstract qualities that precisely define the essential characteristics of those entities residing there. Metaphysics, it must be said, is the discipline that strives to make this identification.31 On Hartshorne’s understanding, to suggest that events, individ­ uals and groups reside at different levels of existence is to recog­ nize a contrast between logical types.32 But he also regards “the existential contrast between God and the creatures as a unique logical-type distinction, one within a logical type, that of individu­ ality.’’ 33 In as much as the latter distinction has to do with the crucial difference between necessary and contingent modes of existence it will engage our attention more properly when we turn to an analysis of the ontological argument in the next section of this chapter. The fundamental notion of logical types has been introduced here only because it provides a context for asking what metaphysics is in our philosopher’s neoclassical scheme. As a metaphysician Hartshorne is concerned with “what is common and necessary to all possible states of affairs and all possible truth. ..” 34 That is, he is interested in the study of those ideas which are universally applicable. Ideas of this sort, he informs us, “define being qua being, the widest universe of discourse, or the universe of ‘all time and all existence.’ ” 35 It would seem to follow, then, that “metaphysical does not mean behind or above the 31 For a carefully developed treatment of these matters see Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 1-18 and 131-158. 32 Ibid., p. 140. 33 Eugene H. Peters, Hartshorne and Neoclassical Metaphysics: An Interpretation (Lincoln: The University of Nebraska Press, 1970), p. 26. Cf., Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, p. 144. 34 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. xv. 35 Charles Hartshorne, ‘‘Metaphysics for Positivists,” Philosophy of Science, Vol. 2, No. 3 (July, 1935), p. 288.

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physical (or the observable), but all through the physical (or observable), and all through everything else, if anything else there be.” 36 Since the import of these remarks is not entirely obvious we must turn to the task of elaboration. Metaphysics, from a Hartshornian perspective, is an enterprise dedicated to the articulation of abstract descriptions of concrete reality.37 It is, in other words, the discipline which studies “the universal traits of experience and existence.” 38 In so doing it pays careful attention to levels of existence and logical-type distinctions. This is necessary because there are no other signposts than these along the way from the fully concrete to the more abstract. To follow these signposts is to arrive at a theory of concreteness which includes a theory of abstractness, and this is nothing less than the primary aim of metaphysics.39 If the metaphysician is directly involved with “the most utterly basic features of experience and thought which are presupposed by any world whatever and by any truth whatever,” 40 there is good reason to assert that metaphysical statements are completely nonrestrictive and existential at one and the same time.41 Such an as­ sertion cannot be adequately understood, however, until we learn to recognize that every fact must be at least partially positive and that existence and actuality are not strictly identical. The principle that every fact must be at least partially positive is fundamental to Hartshorne’s philosophy.42 This principle turns on the realization that facts are contingently actualized possibilities. Furthermore, it requires the notion that “alternative possibilities can be canceled only by a positive fact, not by a mere absence or privation.” 43 A purely negative fact, then, has no legitimate 36 Ibid. 37 Ralph E. James, The Concrete God: A New Beginning for Theology-—The Thought of Charles Hartshorne (Indianapolis, Kansas City, New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc., A Subsidiary of Howard W. Sams & Co., Inc., 1967), p. xxiii. 38 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, p. 130. 39 Peters, Hartshorne and Neoclassical Metaphysics, p. 26. 40 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, p. 174. 41 Charles Hartshorne, “Metaphysical Statements as Nonrestrictive and Existential,” The Review of Metaphysics, Vol. 12, No. 1 (Sept., 1958), pp. 35-47. This essay appears as chapter VIII of Hartshorne’s book Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 159-172. 42 See, for example, Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, p. 160. 43 Peters, Hartshorne and Neoclassical Metaphysics, p. 18.

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meaning.44 Indeed, to say that one state of affairs is not the case is to imply that another state of affairs is the case. If the principle just advanced is at all credible, the proposition “Something exists” makes good sense metaphysically. It does so because it is verifiable in every moment of experience, and cannot conceivably be falsified.45 “Something exists,” therefore, is an existential statement which is completely non-restrictive. That “such and such actually exists” demonstrates the claim that “Something exists” in a definite manner. But any alternative actuality could do so with equal facility, although in a uniquely different way. Thus, while concrete actualities are restrictive of competitors, abstract possibilities are not. And it is exclusively with these abstract possibilities that metaphysics is concerned. It should be clear by now that, according to Hartshorne, actual existence (or actuality) is an empirical phenomenon, whereas existence per se is a metaphysical category. This point accords well with his claim that metaphysics is the discipline concerned with evaluating“« priori statements about existence.” 46 By a priori our philosopher means that which contradicts “no conceivable observation.” 47 The proper test of a metaphysical claim, then, is whether or not it is compatible with any experience whatever. If there are experiences that fail to corroborate it, there is sufficient reason to reject its validity.48 Such is the neoclassical understanding of the nature of the relationship between empirical reality and metaphysical truth. With this understanding in view we are finally in a position to approach the question of methodology. As a metaphysician Hartshorne is convinced “that the ultimate concepts have a rational structure, lucid, intellectually beautiful,”49 and that they are coherently related. In other words, he assumes that the world has an intelligible constitution. This is not to deny the factors of chance, spontaniety, freedom and flux. Rather, it is merely to suggest that these factors are not totally unrelated and unintelligible to and in their cosmic context. Furthermore, our philosopher holds that reality can be rationally apprehended. An apprehension of this sort is achieved by starting 44 45 46 47 48 49

Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, p. 160. Ibid., p. 162. Ibid., p. 19. Ibid. Ibid. Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. ix.

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with "some particular area of human thought or experience,” seizing the most basic and fundamental ideas in that area, and then proceeding to an attempt ‘‘to apply them beyond that area and indeed universally.” 50 The move here is from the concrete to the abstract, from the particular to the general. Such a move is central to what we shall call ‘‘the Hartshornian technique of analogical extrapolation.” But how, it might be asked, can the metaphysician be certain that the rational apprehension of reality gained by utilizing the technique of analogical extrapolation is at all true ? The answer, of course, is that he must turn right around and test it against his experience of reality.51 Clearly, there is a conspicuous circularity operative in this discussion. Stated otherwise, the technique of analogical extrapo­ lation is only part of the total methodological picture. Both of these statements point to the same thing. Let us see why this is so. The technique of analogical extrapolation proceeds inductively. That is, it moves from the particular (some area of human thought or experience) to the general (an apprehension of reality). However, now a deductive technique must be employed in order to test the truth of the insight just gained. This insight or apprehension of reality might be called a metaphysical hypothesis, and the task is to check it out in the realm of human thought and experience. The movement here, obviously enough, is from the general to the partic­ ular. This latter movement conforms to what Hartshorne thinks is the proper role of deduction in metaphysics. That role, he writes,

is not to bring out the content of the initially certain, but to bring out the meaning of tentative descriptions of the metaphysically ultimate in experience so that we shall be better able to judge if they do genuinely describe this ultimate.52 And, as we observed above, this kind of a judgement can be made only on the basis of the nonfalsifiability rule.53 Thus, unless honest 50 Peters, The Creative Advance: An Introduction to Process Philosophy as a Context for Christian Faith, p. 21. 51 There is a definite parallel here the methodological approach employed by Whitehead. In Process and Reality he writes: “The true method of discovery is like the flight of an aeroplane. It starts from the ground of particular observation; it makes a flight in the thin air of imaginative gener­ alization; and it again lands for renewed observation rendered acute by rational interpretation.” See p. 7. 52 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, p. 175. 53 See supra, p. 190.

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effort finds it possible to disclose what actually does or even con­ ceivably could render the descriptions in question meaningless, it is entirely appropriate to conclude that they are metaphysically true.54 We have characterized the movement from induction to deduc­ tion and back again as a circular methodology. The task now facing us is that of showing how it can be applied to the problem of clari­ fying the meaning of God. In approaching this crucial problem Hartshorne deems it neces­ sary to define a set of categories. This set of categories will serve to epitomize the divine reality when the technique of analogical extrapolation comes to be employed.55 Our philosopher seeks to 54 Cf., Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. 87. Here our philosopher appeals to Karl Popper’s contention that “the primary question in science is not what agrees with or verifies our statements, but what conceivably could or actually does refute them. And what refutes them is always a positive existential statement, what he [Popper] terms a ‘basic’ statement, of the form: ‘here is such and such.’ ” See Popper’s brilliant study Logic of Scientific Discovery (New York: Basic Books, 1959), pp. 40-42, 101-102. Hartshorne takes these particular insights and advances them as the most fitting test of the validity of metaphysical hypotheses. Cf., his Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 19-22. 55 We have spoken of “the technique of analogical extrapolation,’’ while Hartshorne employs the expression “the way of eminence.’’ The approach underlying this way is one of identifying the “weak sense” of such terms as absolute, relative, knowledge, love, joy, etc., and attributing them, in their "strong” or “eminent sense,” to deity. This, we would like to suggest, is really analogical extrapolation. See the section entitled "The Principle of Eminence” in The Divine Relativity, pp. 77-78. Writing in another context our philosopher casts additional light on this issue. “I really believe,” he confesses, "that we know what ‘knowledge’ is partly by knowing God, and that though it is true that we form the idea of divine knowledge by analogical extension from our experience of human knowledge, this is not the whole truth, the other side of the matter being that we form our idea of human knowledge by exploiting the intuition . . . which we have of God. To ‘know’ ought to mean, having conclusive evidence, such as God has, shutting off the very possibility of error; but to apply this idea to man we must tone it down drastically indeed.” Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, p. 155. The argument advanced in this quotation certainly supports our use of the expression "analogical extrapolation.” But it does something more besides. It points to the fact that for Hartshorne once the category in question (e.g., knowing) has been extended analogically its "strong” or "eminent sense” functions as the true measure of its creaturely applicability. Thus, it is deity who is the chief term of the analogy. We cannot refrain from observing here that Barth and Hartshorne are in remarkable agreement concerning the problem at hand. For both men the status of analogate characterizes all that which is other than God. (Cf.,

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derive the set of categories he requires through a carefully executed logical critique of the various and traditional theological pronounce­ ments, and through a constant appeal to human experience. To this point one half of the methodological circle has been exposed. Its other segment begins to come into view with the initiation of a process of testing. The procedure followed by Hartshorne is to scrutinize his conclusions in an effort to determine their logical consistency and their adequacy to human experience in all its breadth and depth. When this undertaking has been accomplished in a satisfying way, the task is finished and the methodological circle stands in the open. The precise content of the finished task we have yet to specify. Before doing so, however, we must add at least two more pertinent remarks to the present discussion. One of these remarks has to do with the inevitability of metaphys­ ics. Our philosopher contends that there are only two possible ways of doing without “an explicit and sound metaphysics: to content oneself with a merely implicit metaphysics, or to adopt an explicit metaphysical system which is unsound (meaning . .. unclear or inconsistent).” 56 And, of course, the explicit and sound metaphysics to which Hartshorne appeals is neoclassical meta­ physics, the metaphysics of becoming or creativity. The other pertinent remark to be introduced at this juncture is that our philosopher is convinced that the idea of God is metaphys­ ical.57 This is the case because “... God is conceived as the actual creator of the actual world and the potential creator of possible worlds ... or as, through his omniscience, the measure of all actual and possible truth . . . ” 58 The implication here is that “divinity . . . is either nonsense, in relation to all possible states of affairs, or a necessary reality, in the same relation ...” 59 Now it should be quite obvious that if metaphysics deals with “what is common and necessary to all possible states of affairs and all possible truth,” as supra, pp. 85-86). However, the methods by which they arrive at their similar conclusions stand poles apart. While the Swiss Professor makes his move on the basis of revelation, our philosopher proceeds by expanding the fundamental dimensions of human thought and experience in accordance with the ‘‘principle of eminence.” (Cf., infra, p. 201, n. 91). 56 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection,^. 11. 57 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. xv. Cf., his Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, pp. 38-41. 58 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. xv. 59 Ibid. 13

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was argued above, then the idea of God must indeed be metaphys­ ical.60 With these considerations before us we have all the justification that is required for a utilization of the circular methodology pre­ viously outlined—a methodology uniquely designed to discover and delineate the meaning of God. To employ this methodology is to be engaged in metaphysics, and to be so engaged is perfectly legitimate because “metaphysics can only make us more conscious of what we already know.’’ 61 How could it be otherwise when metaphysics is the attempt to grasp ultimate principles that are universal and ever present in human thought and experience ? At this stage of our analysis we are in a position to deal directly with the question: “What can most reasonably be meant by the religious term 'God’ ? ’’62 Before doing so, however, it seems impor­ tant to introduce Hartshorne’s emphatic reminder that it is only the idea of God that can be explained and not the actual God. Indeed, “to 'explain God’ would mean explaining absolutely everything. Our knowledge of God is infinitesimal. Nevertheless it is ... the only adequate organizing principle of our life and thought.” 63 This precautionary note is perfectly consistent with another point of emphasis advanced by our philosopher. He writes:

That about God which reason cannot know is not the essence of God, that which he is in general terms, such as all-knowing, or loving; but the particular form that this knowing or loving takes when a given particular creature is its object. Not the essence, but the most particular of the accidents of God have to be felt rather than dem­ onstrated, if we can know them at all. Even God’s relation to the human race is outside the province of metaphysics and must either be deduced from anthropological data, or from the depths of per­ sonal intuition, one’s own or someone else’s.64 60 See supra, p. 188 and. n. 34. 61 Hartshorne, Beyond Humanism, p. 274. 62 See supra, p. 184 and n. 13. 63 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. xiv. 64 Hartshorne, Reality As Social Process, pp. 171-172. It is important to take note of the fact that in this quotation our philosopher is initiating a reversal of the traditional understanding. For the most part, Christian theology has been committed to the view that we can only know God as he graciously reveals himself, or God as he is toward man, and that we can never know God as he is in himself. Of course, it is essential to keep in mind that Hartshorne is talking about gaining an insight into God’s essence on the basis of reason alone. In most instances, Christian theology has appealed to revelation as the primary source of man's knowledge of the divine reality.

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It would seem, then, that the “idea of God” and the “essence of God” are equivalent forms of expression in Hartshorne’s lexicon. Certainly this is the case in so far as both are accessible to human reason. It is the actual God, or God in his concrete manifestations, who eludes the grasping tendencies of man’s rational faculties. The central thrust of this argument is succinctly summarized by our philosopher when he tells us that “God is the one individual conceiv­ able a priori." 65 Obviously, it is only the “essence of God” that can be conceived a priori. To assert that God in his concrete manifes­ tations, the actual God, is so conceivable is absurd beyond measure. It must be said, then, that our primary concern in the remainder of this section will be to attempt to understand Hartshorne’s demonstration of the conceivability of the idea of God. Such a demon­ stration has exceedingly broad implications, the most important of which is that “an affirmative answer to the question Is there a God? follows logically from an affirmative answer to the question Is a God conceivable? ” 66 While it is not in accordance with our present purpose to expound this interesting assertion in any detailed way, it would require something like a tour de force to refrain from saying at least a word about it here. Thus, what is briefly sketched at this juncture will be more thoroughly developed in the next section. If the conceivability of the idea of God logically entails the neces­ sity of his existence, and it does, then to conceive of God adequately is to realize that he necessarily exists.67 The key to this abbreviated argument, Hartshorne assures us, is to be found in a proper under­ standing of Anselm’s second formulation of the ontological argu­ ment.68 Here a certain discovery is evident. That discovery may be expressed in this way: “necessary existence is a different kind of existence from contingent existence.” 69 Such a crucial distinction is of high importance from the point of view of neoclassical theism. From this particular perspective necessary existence is literally 65 Hartshorne, The Divine Relatively, p. 31. In another context our philosopher argues that the a priori refers “to nothing empirical, but only to what, in purely abstract terms, is conceivable.” See his The Logic of Per­ fection, p. 35. 66 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, p. 3. 67 Cf., ibid., p. 87. 68 See supra, pp. 101-104 for a discussion of Hartshorne’s view of the structural issues involved in a proper reading of Proslogion 2-3. 69 Hartshorne, The Logic of Perfection, p. 138.

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definable as "an invincible capacity to achieve, a certainty of possessing, some contingent property expressing the identity of the being—regardless of what other beings exist or fail to exist." 70 As we shall have occasion to learn further along in the discussion, necessary existence is a characteristic of God’s abstract or Absolute aspect, while contingent existence belongs to the concrete or Relative dimension of his being. Necessary existence, it may now be said, requires at least some form of contingent existence, and is itself required by any contingent form of existence whatever. Thus, it is possible to conclude that "God exists if there is any divine actuality, any actual state, no matter which among possible ones, manifesting the divine essence.” 71 Which is all by way of saying that to be able to conceive what God is, is also to know that he is. Let us now seek to gain a fuller insight into our philosopher’s understanding of the “what” of the divine reality. First of all, however, it will be necessary to draw some logical distinctions. This is the case because Hartshorne is convinced that the metaphysical-theological paradoxes of classical theism and classical pantheism are due, at least in part, to notable examples of confused thinking.72 One such instance of confusion occurred when the terms "Supre­ me” and "Absolute” were taken to be identical expressions. When this was done nonrelativity, independence, immutability, impas­ sibility and the like came to be viewed as excellences of the highest order. Now, in so far as our philosopher contends that relativity, dependence, mutability, passibility and the like can also be excel­ lences of a comparably high order, he finds it necessary to assert the non-identity of the two terms mentioned above. Thus, he concludes that while "Absolute” means nonrelative, independent, immutable, impassible and the like, "Supreme” connotes most excellent, superiority, admirableness and the like.73 The implications of this crucial distinction will engage our attention further along in the discussion. 70 Ibid. 71 Hartshorne and Reese, Philosophers Speak of God, p. 105. 72 Speaking to this very point, our philosopher writes: “Metaphysical statements are not opposed to anything except wrong ways of talking. Metaphysical error is exclusively a matter of confusion, inconsistency, or lack of definite meaning, rather than of factual mistakes.” Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, p. 69. 73 Hartshorne, The Divine Relativity, pp. 18-19, 51.

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The next developmental step requires that we seek to clarify another important concept—the concept of perfection. The charac­ teristic conviction held by most classical thinkers was that when this concept is applied to God it forecloses the possibility of his changing in any way whatsoever.74 In other words, they were convinced that a perfect being can never conceivably be greater. This means, of course, that a perfect being is, and must be, totally incapable of increase. At this point Hartshorne suggests that such an understanding of the concept of perfection is inadequate in the extreme. Just why is this so? A perfect being must either include or not include the totality of imperfect things. To argue for an inclusive perfect being is to be forced to conclude that such a being is really inferior “to a conceivable perfection whose constituents would be more per­ fect.” 75 However, to argue for a perfect being who is not inclusive is to be faced with an even more perplexing problem. From this perspective “the total reality which is ‘the perfect and all existing imperfect things’ is a greater reality than the perfect alone.” 76 Such is the dilemma we face if perfection be that which is inca­ pable of change or increase. Our philosopher envisions a way of escape. That way is to grasp one horn of the dilemma while proffering an alternative interpre­ tation of perfection. He willingly concedes that “the perfect-